Her Hunger
by ErosandPsyche
Summary: Hermione Granger survives a Veela attack, but it's not without consequences. She's having all these feelings for wizards she never expected to, what's a hot-blooded witch to do?
1. Chapter 1

Hermione had no idea how she found herself in this situation.

An Auror could find themselves assigned to any number of different cases. It even made sense that she would be the head on a case involving a Veela. It was simply much easier to send female Aurors to deal with one than hope a male could handle it.

A string of suspicious attacks had rocked a small town in Greece with their lurid details and scandal. A married official caught dead and naked in the middle of a public access villa.

A prominent Quidditch player was found in a compromising position with no partner. Word got out in such a small town.

Hermione had spent three lovely days in the wonderful weather and spent most of it questioning angry wives - and two mistresses.

She had enough visual notoriety to smooth over introductions, but that didn't always lend itself to honest answers. That's how she found herself on a lonely precipice, trying to follow a fellow young Auror up a craggy mountain's end.

He was new, eager, and didn't quite understand that being bait meant he was in mortal danger.

She did.

Even though she was supposed to stay out of sight, two sharp screams punctuated her resolve. Now, as she ran against wind and gravity, she wanted little more at the moment except a hot cup of tea and to not find his cooling corpse along this ground with its view of the ocean and strong scent of salt.

When she finally reached them, it almost seemed too late.

The Veela's pale skin gleamed in the moonlight as it hunched over the Auror, fierce bird-like face out and talons slashing at the vulnerable skin beneath his robes.

Bright red streaks smeared across his silently screaming face and beaded on the grass around them.

She shouted a scant warning as she ran up the steep incline, wand outheld.

The beautiful and terrifying face turned her way spurred Hermione's resolve.

She had not, however, prepared for her possibility for the Veela to leave its prey and launch itself at her.

A red Stunner missed the attacking creature, and suddenly Hermione was on the ground, grappling with the inhumanly gorgeous and deadly being.

It slashed her hands, but she held onto her wand and shoved it close to it's face.

"Sectumsempra!"

Some part of Hermione hated the automatic use of the Dark-not-Dark spell, but it had already cut her own arm wide open. And Hermione did not pull spells when it came to living or dying.

It was launched off of her, shrieking and writhing as its skin split open like a zipper. Its blood was just as bright red as her young partner.

Hermione held her wand steadily as she approached the creature, her own bleeding arm held tightly to her side.

It was twitching spasmodically as it gurgled its lifeblood in the unforgiving dirt.

She trained her wand on the dying being, a wave of dizziness sweeping over her. Her face, neck, and chest burned like fire, and she realized she was injured worse than she thought.

Duty dictated that she not only take care of the creature, but also to protect her partner.

After she cast one last spell, _Corconfuto!_ at the shrieking Veela, everything tilted sideways and down Hermione went.

* * *

 _Her finger were tangled in silky locks. His mouth slaked its thirst on her bare skin, traveling from her neck to the aching pink peak of her left breast._

 _She cried out, cupping the head close as it suckled and nipped._

 _Clever fingers of his skimmed from her torso to between her thighs, dipping into the hot apex of her core. She cried out, arching her back and moving her hips against his hand._

 _All she could even think about was where he touched her, and gripping his head against her aching hot skin._

 _She moaned his name, the word leaving her lips with recognition, as he brought her so close to completion. His touch slipped away, and she nearly begged him to touch her again._

 _All that mattered right now was that he touch her again. All that mattered was that he fill her in ways that she could only_ _ **dream**_ _about._

* * *

The bed was soft beneath her, and yet it could have been a splintered board for all she could get comfortable.

The white walls were painful at first to her stinging eyes, and she shielded them with a weak raise of one arm.

"Where am I?" her throat felt as dry as the morning after a night-long binge of firewhiskey. One eye focused, and she spotted red hair and a very freckled long nose.

"You're at St. Mungo's." Ron soothed, his sweaty hand touching hers.

At first she jerked back, but common sense rushed forward. She took a deep breath, opening both eyes. "What happened?"

"Auror Waters said you saved his life." He looked at her like she was a hero.

Perhaps to a shopkeeper she was, she thought ungraciously. It was unfair, Ron had been one of her best friends for many years, brief dating mistakes aside.

She tried to sit up, pain lancing through her chest and neck.

"Wait," he said quickly, "wait for the Healer. You're not healed all the way yet."

Hermione felt her neck almost immediately, as if a violent skirmish might show there first. She wasn't disappointed. Tender, raised scars along her neck could be felt even with the lightest touches.

She wanted to ask him why they hadn't closed up her wounds already.

However, a grizzled Healer entered the room within seconds. He smiled at Ron and came to Hermione's bedside. "You're awake."

"Obviously." She croaked, immediately hating the way her voice sounded.

He seemed to take it in stride, this older Healer with his gentle brown eyes. "Your partner was sure you'd been attacked by a Veela. Is that true?"

Hermione nodded slowly, another wave of exhaustion slipping over her. She was barely listening as the Healer explained her condition.

"Once there's an established link, it's impossible to break. A young person attacked by a werewolf might crave red meat, but you…":

He trailed off, and straightened his glasses. They added to his appearance, as did the gray at his temples. "Anyway, it will take a good deal of rest before you can return to work. "

"How long?" she croaked. It made her a little uneasy that she found the Healer - Head by the badge on his chest - even moderately attractive. It seemed like this was an inappropriate time.

"I can release you by tomorrow if the wounds don't open again, but I'm sending a recommendation that you, at the very least, stick to a desk job for two weeks."

Hermione grumbled. She was a good Auror, and she enjoyed her work far more than she suspected she would when she returned to Hogwarts for a short 'eighth year'.

"Yes, well, I'll let you rest." He turned an unexpectedly stern eye at Ron. "You have to let her be, no matter what she says."

With that strange statement he left, leaving her to sink into the fluffy pillows gratefully.

"What did he think I was about to do, shag you while you're half-dead?" Ron chuckled. "I'm not that hard-up."

"Thanks," she mumbled. They had broken up months after the war was over and come back around to friendship full circle, but it still stung her feminine sensibilities to be told a bloke would have to be mad to hit on her.

Ron sighed, patting her hand. "I meant you're barely able to sit up. Want me to let you get some rest?"

"No." But sleep was already claiming her again, and her head tilted to the side as she passed out.

* * *

"Malfoy is going to have a conniption." A familiar male voice split into her fuzzy consciousness.

"She got attacked! She shouldn't be in trouble." A woman responded, her voice seeming shrill and unwelcome at the moment.

Hermione opened her eyes and tilted her head up. Nothing hurt anymore, but she was being very ginger at first. One too many times had she gotten overconfident and ended up getting sick all over herself.

"You're awake!" Ginny said warmly, her voice still coming off as piercingly loud.

Hermione rubbed her temple as she sat up more. Ginny was nice enough to situate the pillows behind her quite efficiently.

Harry gave her his familiar lopsided grin, the kind he used when affectionately pleased. "I thought you were going to laze around for another day." His voice seemed unusually...deep? She could feel it warming her skin.

"How long have I been out?"

"You were brought in two days ago. I heard you were awake yesterday and talked with the Healer. I tried to get information from him first, but he wouldn't believe you were my sister."

Hermione laughed, wanting to reach out and feel his hand under hers. A strange thought. Perhaps she was feeling vulnerable from almost dying. "Did the Healer already send information to MLE? Oh, and it's Director Malfoy, you know."

Harry rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "It's already all over the offices, that you're being benched for a month."

"The Healer said two weeks!" Hermione gasped, then took the glass of water Ginny offered.

"You know how gossip is. Anyway, they're taking bets on whether Malfoy will actually allow you to be a glorified paper-pusher or make you stay home. He hates giving us special privileges."

Hermione straightened the soft hospital gown, a bit breathless. Whatever they gave her must have induced a slight fever.

Malfoy and her had attended Auror training at the same time after eighth year, but his training took a year longer with all the psychological tests he was required to take.

One thing she could say about Malfoy, he had thoroughly turned around the supervisor's opinion of him. He was Head Auror by their third year, and Deputy Head of MLE by fifth year.

Their former Director had retired at age 43 to his place of birth, Edinburgh, in a bloody castle. That wasn't suspicious at all.

Then he turned around and said Harry was too green to become Head Auror, and appointed his favorite lackey, Malcolm Baddock.

Truly, Director Malfoy was an infuriating thorn in her side. She squirmed under the blanket, attributing her sudden heat to it, and anger of course.

"I'll just have to go down to the Ministry after I leave here." Hermione nodded certainly, absently reaching out to curl her fingers over Harry's.

She didn't notice until realizing how good she was feeling, and Harry's slightly awkward shift in his seat. "Sorry," she muttered, pulling her hand back and wondering what exactly was going on in her body today?

* * *

Author's Notes:

What indeed?! As noted in my AN of my other fic, this is going to feature not just one love interest, but two.

And there will be no pulling punches on who poor, poor Hermione is fighting her new urges against! Now I'm sure you're thinking, but Hanna, she won't succumb to anyone else, will she?

XD I promise nothing!

I will still be updating The Price You Pay just as regularly as you might hope on top of this, as well as finishing up my own book. What can I say, I'm dedicated to the craft! Anyway, hope you enjoy and don't forget to leave a note in the review jar!


	2. Chapter 2 - Harry

"You can barely see the scar now." Hermione checked her neck again in the small handheld mirror. While she wasn't a particularly vain person, wounds came cheap and easy as an Auror. If every single one left a mark, she'd be riddled with them.

She did have some permanent ones, but most of these were covered by her robes.

"I wish I had that problem," Harry joked. He had brought her a change of clothes now that she was being released. Normally she'd have sent him for Muggle clothing, but Hermione had grown comfortable in the wide-skirted, billowing set she bought herself after graduation.

To be honest, they reminded her of Professor Snape's. Snug at the sleeves and shoulders, with a long row of engraved buttons leading down the back. If she got the ones with buttons in the front, then everyone would know who she was emulating.

It was strange and amusing how former students of his unconsciously straightened when she approached him in her black robes of the same cut.

"At least your scar is soul-free now."

"Yeah, but I had to die first."

They shared a smile, and she resisted the same impulse to reach out and rest her hand on his arm.

Not much had changed from yesterday, she still felt a bit sad when the Head Healer left. His visits were strangely short, normally she had Healers pay more attention to their famous charge.

Perhaps it was quite busy.

"Wait here while I get changed." Hermione had been a good girl and stayed in bed since yesterday, only getting up to send off owls and go to the loo. She went there now and pulled off the loose gown and let it pool to the ground.

Harry really did deserve that Head Auror position. He was more of a leader than Baddock, whose toadying up to Malfoy had garnered resentment.

An Auror's first loyalty should be to upholding justice and protecting each other, not playing bureaucratic games in the office.

It took Hermione nearly a minute before she remembered where she was. Pulling on her robes, she reached for the sink before she realized she forgot her wand.

"Harry, can you hand me my wand?" She cracked open the bathroom door and peeked out, even though all her front bits were more than covered.

"Of course." He picked up the forgotten wand from beside the bed and walked to the door, making a show of covering his eyes.

"Give that to me, you arse." She snatched it once he was close enough, and left the door ajar as she turned toward the mirror. "Actually," she said thoughtfully, "can you help me with this?"

She waited, eyes on the mirror until he nudged the door open and stopped in the doorway.

"What do you need?" His eyes swept low on her back, where the row of buttons was left open.

"I haven't done much magic while healing. Can you button up my robe?"

Harry pulled out his own wand, long fingers wrapped loosely about it. An Auror never clenched too tight, it hampered improvisation. "I don't know the spell for it." He admitted after a long moment of looking at her bare skin.

"Just do it by hand, Harry." Hermione made sure her voice was impatient, but she went back to watching him in the mirror intently.

He glanced at her with his brilliant green eyes, and stepped forward. First he brought the edges of the robe together at the bottom of her waist, and swallowed.

His knuckles brushed her bare skin as he went up the line. His expression was focused as he seemed to be watching what he was doing quite closely.

The robe wasn't too tight, but she felt like she couldn't draw in a deep breath. In all the times they spent together where either one of them was wearing much less, he hadn't ever looked at her like that.

To be fair, she hadn't watched him like this either. Each accidental touch of skin sent a wave of awareness over her.

"Finished." His voice was far more quiet and breathless than it had any right to be, and she bit her lip hard.

"I really need to leave," she said rather desperately, moving past him quickly after she grabbed her wand.

"I should go too," Harry sounded just as awkward and lingering as her, stopping before he even left the bathroom. That was most definitely for the best.

Hermione pulled on her flat-heeled boots and went to the desk of the Healer on duty. By the time she had signed everything and returned to check if she left anything, Harry was gone.

It was both disappointing and a relief.

There was one certain thought in her head right now; she had to get to Flourish and Botts. The Ministry could wait another day.

"Do you have an useful section on Veela's?" Hermione held up one luridly scarlet book titled _Thirst for Love, Veela in London Series_ as she called to the wizard stocking the shelves.

"That's all we have right there." He pointed to the shelf she was in front of, with its pitiful five book section with the label Veela above it.

"There are most certainly not the type of book I'm looking for." Hermione snapped, picking up another one and reading out loud. " _The Wizard Hunt, Veela in London 2._ "

The worker put on a patently falsely patient smile. "We have our catalogue."

Hermione groaned internally. Their unbelievably thick catalogue could take days to search. A normally pleasurable activity for her, but not when she needed something sooner than later.

"No, thank you."

Once again she missed having access to the Hogwarts library. At least she hadn't taken it for granted at the time, but there hadn't been much of a reason to research Veelas.

She walked out and headed up to the Owling Post Office. She could have simply head home to send an owl, but she had several more errands planned.

"One letter, please."

The older wizard passed another a simple quill and parchment her way after recognizing her.

 _Fleur,_

 _I'm sorry to bother you, but you wouldn't happen to have any books on Veelas? If not, what do you know about the effects of a Veela attacks?"_

 _Hermione_

She really hoped the former Triwizard champion would not tell the other Weasley's about her request.

Fleur wasn't mean, she was simply the type to flip her hair over one shoulder and speak without thinking. As an afterthought, she added _This is just between you and me_ to the end.

Bill being in the know was acceptable, of course, and expected. She would die if the answer was embarrassing and the twins caught wind of it.

Hermione ordered standard delivery times, paid the fare, and handed him the charmed envelope.

On the plus side, the Auror she rescued was doing quite well. He had stopped in her room for a brief time to thank her profusely, and walked out of the hospital a whole day and a half before she could.

She puttered around Diagon Alley, ordering several ingredients from Jigger's and looked at robes at Madame Malkin's.

She didn't often head there, especially once she found several styles that fit her self-imposed budget. Ron jokingly called her long-sleeved, high-buttoned up the back choices austere. Harry admitted he thought of Snape...normally. Clearly he didn't now.

Hermione groaned to herself, reminding her to think of something else.

Malkin suggested several lighter robes for warmer weather, and Hermione found herself touching the soft fabrics. They were most certainly out of her price range.

It wasn't by necessity, but preference that she not spend too much money on clothes. Her Auror robes served as work clothes, so her wardrobe was allowed to be sparse and, well, austere.

If she wasn't going to buy anything, she had little to do now but to head back to her flat. She Apparated to her self-designed spot, and walked through the Muggle dominated neighborhood.

The wards on her front door were undisturbed and whole, and she sent a complicated wandless spell to unlock it.

Her flat was dark and empty, everything in its place except Crookshanks. He wound around her ankles immediately, meowing loudly as if his bowls weren't spelled to remain full.

"I missed you too," she sighed, reaching down to scritch behind his ears. She scanned through her mail on the mantle, scowling at the lack of Ministry envelopes.

Malfoy was going to make her go in to deal with this, wasn't he? A shiver of heat ran down her spine at the thought, which she told herself was anger.

The oddity of her...time with Harry earlier had almost faded in the back of her mind, especially since she hadn't encountered the same problem with any other wizard she spoke with during her errands.

An aberration brought on by ending up in St. Mungo's for the third time this year. And, if she were going to be brutally honest, she hadn't exactly been jumping back on the broomstick of dating life since her last fizzled relationship.

It was definitely a mistake to date someone at the Ministry, but since it wasn't another Auror she had thought the end wouldn't be so bad.

The nasty rumours didn't stop until Harry threatened to Body-Bind the git while Hermione had a crack at him.

No, no thinking about wizards.

She didn't receive word back until after dinner.

 _Hermione,_

 _I heard about what happened! Mr. Weasley heard it from Molly, who overheard Ron and Ginny speaking of it. C'est terrible!_

 _Feel free to visit the Shell Cottage at your earliest convenience._

 _Amicalement,_

 _Fleur_

Hermione grabbed her biggest throw pillow and vented her frustration into it loudly and colorfully.

Hermione waited until after breakfast before grabbing a handful of Floo powder and making a call to the Shell Cottage.

After the war she had only been once, as most events and birthday celebrations were held at The Burrow.

Fleur answered the Floo call, looking quite fetching in an icy lavender robe and her hair a pale sheath of silk. "'ermione!" She smiled happily. "Come through, come through. 'ave you 'ad breakfast yet?"

"Yes, thank you. I'll be right over." She pulled her head out of the green flames and stepped through.

Accepting a light hug, she let herself be ushered to the kitchen table for tea and fussing over her. It was rather sweet, Fleur heard she was at St. Mungo's for a day and wouldn't let Hermione prepare her own tea.

"Thank you." She sipped the hot brew, no sugar, a trickle of milk. "I hope I'm not imposing too much."

"Not at all. Victoire is at 'er cousin's, so nice." The kitchen, and the sitting room Hermione arrived in, were spotless. Not a speck of dust, and no sign of a small child living there.

"That does sound nice." Hoping that this covered the bases of small talk, she ventured, "I don't suppose you'd know much about the effects of a Veela attack?"

Fleur sighed, leaning her cheek on her palm whimsically. "Not much. 'owever, Gabrielle and I 'ave spoken much on our early lives. She is an adult now, you know. I know I was always, eh, looking at boys, and they looked at me.I was 'opelessly smitten with Viktor Krum, but he never paid me any attention."

Hermione smiled politely, sipping her tea. She hadn't thought of Viktor in years...though there was a time when her friends liked to update her on his Quidditch career.

"I never liked boys much if they weren't special. I was very drawn to certain ones. Gabriella did not marry young, and she struggles."

Hermione perked up a little, drawing in a breath to ask about that.

"Struggle, is that the right word?" Fleur kept going, twirling several locks around her fingers. She also did not wait for an answer. "She wanted to wait for the perfect man."

Hermione hadn't given a great deal to dating lately, but she knew there was no such thing as the perfect man. "What do-"

"I keep telling her, she 'as sights too 'igh. It really is about who is, well, just right for you."

"What-was-the-struggle?!" She blurted out, seizing upon the moment Fleur breathed.

The lovely woman blinked. "Oh! She wants them all, the good ones."

Her heart sunk. Running around with indiscriminate hormones sounded terrible.

"I tell her, until she decides…" She gave a careless shrug. "I 'ad many choices before Bill. But he was so 'andsome, and the only man in Gringotts, you know. Very powerful." She sighed happily, staring off.

"It goes away, wanting them all?" It was the only hope Hermione had right now.

"It is tempting, to be single." Fleur continued, tapping her own cheek. "Veela, you know they take where there is want. I thought about using it to win the Triwizard Cup, but that would not be fair."

"Take? What do they take?" That didn't sound good.

"The...malheureuse? Indomptable? Ardente?"

"Ardent? Like passion?"

Fleur snapped her fingers and smiled. "Yes! But passion, it is also sweet, no? Veelas make and take the wrong passion. They absorb not love, but hunger."

Hermione wished Fleur, who spoke English better than ever, could explain it in native terms. However, that would be rude, especially after Fleur was so open about her heritage.

"Did Gabrielle end up finding her person?"

Fleur made a so-so motion with one hand, with a pretty grimace. "I think she is very fond of zat-that power." Her expression cleared, and she smiled. "But this is Veela blood. I am sure you will be fine, 'ermione. You 'aven't 'ad any problems?"

Hermione shook her head slowly. "No...no. I was just curious."

She drained the rest of her tea. For a 'confirmed bachelorette', as Witch Weekly had dubbed her several months ago, she had to find another way around this.

Author's Notes:

Poor Boy-Who-Lived, who is next?

Thank you for the lovely offerings in the review jar! You are all so awesome, and there will be another update soon!


	3. Chapter 3 - Neville

Hermione gazed at herself in the mirror. After leaving the Shell Cottage she came back home to get changed.

She had chosen the same style she usually wore, but in a dark red color. Tight sleeves just past her wrist, moulded neckline just covering her clavicle, and a cinched waist.

Though she couldn't say she admired the Victorian style of most wizarding clothes, this had caught her eye. Another difference was that the front of the robe split, revealing a smoky gray skirt underneath.

Running her fingers through her wild curls, she told herself again to pin it up in a bun like normal.

A part of Hermione didn't want to. She wasn't heading to work as an Auror, but rather as looking for notification on her work status, which should have been sent days ago.

The silence infuriated her, and she wanted to remind Draco of who she was when they first met. Director or not, she was absolutely not going to put up with his ill-mannered attitude toward her.

Her reflection showed flushed cheeks and bright eyes. She ignored what had her so hot and bothered.

Hermione combed her fingers through her hair again and turned away from the mirror.

Then she stepped out to Apparate to work.

Since she didn't have her own office, she couldn't connect the Floo network at the Ministry to her flat.

The Atrium was busy as always, milling with people working, looking for a need to be filled, or disgruntled with a previous service.

Nudging her way confidently through the crowd, she reached an elevator in minimal time. It wasn't always easy, especially when she wasn't wearing the red Auror robes.

She walked past the desk leading back to the Aurors, managing a smile for the woman working diligently behind it.

Hermione had no intention of asking to see if Malfoy was in. If he was, he would be talking to her.

"Auror Granger! You're back at work." The words should have been excited and welcoming, but this was Malcolm Baddock speaking them. Thus, his tone was unpleasantly surprised and then massively disapproving without ever sounding angry or rude.

He was a dapper young man with slick black hair and an oily charm when the right person was around.

"Where's the Director?" She didn't feel the need to be polite either. He may be Head Auror, but in no way had he deserved it nor had he made it his own.

She knew he ran to Malfoy and told him everything, the little toadie.

"Do you have an appointment?" He stuck his nose up in the air, chest puffing out.

Hermione had a horrible flashback to pre-war Percy and had to quell the urge to laugh or shove him against a wall with wand jabbed in his throat.

"Baddock, I want to see him **now.** "

A muscle under his cheek twitched, and he swallowed.

"Is there a problem here?"

Hermione turned, relieved to see Neville. Neville often spoke about retiring to return to his first love, Herbology, but he was still here. She suspected he stayed as solidarity with his former classmates against Malfoy.

He was still the lean, scarred young man from the war in many ways - if Harry hadn't wanted Head Auror, Neville would have been next in line. He really had grown into his looks, as well his ability to lead others.

She liked that very much right now.

"Not at all, Auror Longbottom." Baddock sneered.

"Why don't you go see if Malfoy is in? Or I can do it." Neville smiled before turning to Hermione. "I'm glad to see you're back. You didn't leave before the Healer allowed it again, did you?"

Soundly dismissed, Baddock sent them a miffed look and walked down the direction of Malfoy's office.

Hermione couldn't help but feeling of warmth. She could handle that garden snake on her own, but it was strangely exciting to see him do it for her. "I left with permission. He strongly recommended two weeks in bed. What am I going to do in bed for two weeks?" She laughed then, but a throaty one that she was sure she had never made before.

Neville blinked, then cleared his throat. "You do like to read."

One part of her watched with detachment as she took a step closer to him, fingers smoothing over his Auror badge. "That's so inactive. I'm used to adventure...you know?"

He was starting to turn a bit pink, eyes riveted on her upturned face and playful smile. "...yes?"

Heat came off his skin, she could feel it. Not by touch, but with some other sense she swore she'd never felt before.

Except earlier. With Harry.

She couldn't make herself stop. "Neville," she said thoughtfully, checking out his broad shoulders. Her voice dropped low, meant for just his ears. "All those times I helped you with Potions and the hours we spent alone…"

Neville was breathing short and shallow. "Yes."

She leaned close on her tiptoes with one hand on his chest, bracing her weight as she whispered against his neck. "Did you ever fantasize about me?"

He was absolutely blushing now, something she hadn't seen this grown-Neville do. "Well-I-I mean, we, uhh.."

 _Stop talking. Please, stop._ She practically begged herself, slowly pulling her hand away from his robe. Her skin felt scalded by the amount of heat felt, and she wanted more.

"Director Malfoy isn't currently in. He has many important issues to deal with during the day." Baddock announced from behind.

Both angry and relieved at the interruption, Hermione looked over her shoulder at him. "I'll be in tomorrow. If he's not available when I get in, raining corridors will be the least of your worries."

She walked away, making herself go slow lest Baddock think she was running away from _him._

She did look over her shoulder right before turning down the corridor.

Neville was still standing there, a bit dazed with fingers pressed where her fingers had been.

Once alone, Hermione groaned and held her head in her hands. That was even _worse_ than it was with Harry. What had Fleur said? That Veelas _made_ the desire as well as took it.

Perhaps it was worse where there was a previous history to draw off. Not that she had ever liked Neville that way, but she had been fully aware sometime fifth year that he had a crush on her.

She massaged her temples, then snuck to the elevators as quickly as possible. There was no bones about it, she had almost completely lost control.

With Neville.

Who was, last she heard, sharing a sweet and tentative flirtation with Hannah Abbott.

Hermione hit the first floor button on the elevator once it closed, feeling almost as miserable as she had after that last hour at St. Mungo's.

* * *

Flourish and Bott's had the most ridiculous catalogue in the existence of all book catalogues. It was possibly the thickest book in the word, and the summaries of volumes were all handwritten.

She had been flipping pages and poring over the handwriting for well over an hour. She was simply desperate. She was this close to writing Headmistress McGonogall and begging to use the library there.

It might be a little strange, a grown witch wandering around her old alma mater to read some books. However, by now as long as her request was granted, she didn't care what anyone though.

She was about to grab a fresh piece of parchment out of her bag when a title caught her eye.

 _Succubi and Veela: Facts and Myths._

Hermione hauled the open book to the counter to order it from the owner. She even paid extra galleons for a rush delivery.

"Thank you, Miss Granger." The owner took the payment and smiled warmly at her. "Thank you for your business."

She gave him a perfunctory smile and took the huge list back to a table to keep browsing. If hours in the library had taught her anything, it was that one book alone could not be relied on.

* * *

Round and round it goes, where it ends nobody knows...

Thank you so much for your reviews! I thought it was cute that some of you thought for sure Harry would be half of the endgame. ;) Oh no, the torture is just beginning for her, my loveies! No telling yet which one will end up her second...


	4. Chapter 4 - Theodore

Hermione raised a hand. "I'll have another Unicorn Blood."

The White Rabbit was a small pub in Diagon Alley with rooms available to rent on the second level. She would have preferred the Leaky Cauldron, but she didn't know if Tom was working or his new hire, Hannah Abbott.

Also, the chances of her running into anyone she knew was low. The bartender passed her a silvery drink.

Hermione wasn't foolish, she had him substitute a nonalcoholic silvery spritzer for the original main ingredient, Silver Jinx tequila. She certainly didn't need any help lowering her inhibitions. Admittedly, it was pleasantly mixed with Elderflower wine, but that had about as much alcohol as a Butterbeer.

She wasn't nursing it either, and she tipped generously each drink. Home had seemed so empty tonight, and books couldn't keep her mind occupied.

Tossing half of it back in one smooth motion, she nearly spit it back out when she saw who sat next to her.

"I'll have what she's having."

Hermione leaned one elbow on the bar, staring at one Theodore Nott. Oh, it hadn't even been that long since she saw his smirking mug. He stopped by the offices to meet with Malfoy at least once a month, they were great friends.

She could only imagine what sort of underhanded dealings the former classmates were up to. He was one of the tallest men she knew, and he had filled out a lot since Hogwarts. He was still as unpleasant to deal with, and she had never backed down when they passed each other in the hall.

"Single or double?" The bartender asked blandly.

"Double." He looked up thoughtfully. "I'm shocked to see you here on a work night." Then his attention zoned back on her with a growing smirk. "Oh, that's right. Why don't I buy us a round, Granger? Make hers a double too."

Hermione stared at him, eyes narrowed. He knew she wasn't going back to work tomorrow, did he? Smarmy git. "Don't _you_ work tomorrow, or can you rob and lie to people with a hangover?"

Nott shook his head at her tolerantly. "Granger, Granger. Your upbringing is showing. I make business deals with contracts. It's hardly my fault that people misunderstand the written word."

She scoffed. "You go out of your way to dupe people and blame them for trusting you? Nice, really lovely. I couldn't imagine why you're here alone."

"Hitting bludgers at your own teammates, are you?" He looked pointedly at the empty seat on her other side.

She toyed with her wand between her fingers, glancing him over.

The bartender placed two drinks in front of them, and Granger grabbed hers before Nott could do something dominant like grab hers to drink.

Taking a drink, she was relieved to taste spritzer and not the potent liquor. She did notice, however, he charged Nott for two doubles.

It took everything in her to not laugh.

"Look, I only came over to express my deepest sympathies." Nott pulled the fakest look of compassion she had ever seen.

"I didn't need them until a moment ago." She toyed with her squat glass, very glad she had chosen such a weak drink. He didn't quite get under her skin the way Malfoy did, but that was like comparing a valley to a canyon.

"Malfoy was certainly raging about your last mission today. I could almost feel sorry for you, you know, if you were worth it."

"I don't think you're worth this conversation." Looking him straight in the eye, she finished off her drink and set it in front of him. "Enjoy."

She turned on her heel and walked past the tables and to the booths.

"Two more, and keep them coming."

She could hear the clink of galleons and soon, footsteps following her.

Normally she would not allow anyone unwanted to invade her evening, but after all the frustration of the day this felt good. She welcomed the pursuing because it would lead to a good argument.

If Hermione were honest with herself, and she often was, she was spoiling for one.

She took the last booth in the corner of the pub and slid along the smooth seat.

Nott sat across from her with his nearly full glass. He tipped it back and drank every last drop, placing it between them.

"I'm not worth a conversation, Granger? Aren't you the one always opening your mouth around me when you get the chance?"

"What can I say," she leaned back against the seat, twirling her wand again, "you just don't intimidate me. You're a little boy with galleons and friends in high places."

"I can assure you that there's nothing little about me."

As they stared at each other, she noticed his brown eyes were actually a hazel, ringed with grey. Sweet Merlin he was tall even when sitting.

"Oh, I already know that."She began counting on her fingers. "Head, check. Ego, check. Sense of entitlement, check. Estimation of your own self; false...but check."

He sneered at her. "While we're talking about your hair, why don't you let it down once a while? Or would that dislodge the massive branch lodged up your-"

A crack interrupted him, and they had two fresh glasses sitting at the table.

Hermione recognized the one with a hint of bubbles rising up, and she took that one and downed it immediately.

It did occur to her that he would think she was playing his game, but since she could only win...it didn't bother her. He would be absolutely pissed before she even felt tipsy.

"You're quick to brag, aren't you Nott? Yet here you are on a weeknight, trying to forget about your pathetic life." She still read the news sources often, and though he inherited Nott Enterprises, he was far from scandalous in his personal life.

"Bludger, teammate." He pointed to her and back to himself. Even he realized that wasn't the best comeback, because he lifted his drink and smacked down an empty glass. "Let's be honest, Granger. You're on the cusp of being unemployed, and well past the age of attracting a rich wizard...not that, honestly, you've ever been likely to land one."

Hermione sat up straighter in her seat, ignoring the startling crack of a new drink and going straight for taking a long drink. "Oh, Nott." She grinned, her eyes narrowing. "Just because your ability to attract witches is based solely on your Gringotts' account doesn't mean every wizard relies on such tactics."

He grabbed his drink and took a drink nearly as long as hers, but he sucked in a breath as he lowered it. A double shot of Silver Jinx was no easy task, and she enjoyed the thought of drinking him into the ground.

"Soon, everyone is going to know you're worth nothing." He slid out of the booth, standing up to his full height. "Nothing."

Before he could escape she was in front of him, head tilted back with her wand jammed into his neck. "What do you know, Nott? What is Malfoy up to?"

Though he was the Director, he couldn't just get rid of an Auror because she was injured. There was something else going on.

His eyes dipped low and rose back to her eyes. "You're awfully fond of whipping out your wand. Envy, undoubtedly."

She stepped closer to him, keeping the tip pressed right against his pulse point. "You would know the shiftiest of Muggle psychology. This wand has at least, what," her gaze dipped very low, and back up to him, "at least six inches on you? And it works _every time_."

Hermione couldn't say exactly what happened next, but she did know suddenly his mouth was covering hers, invading in ways she wanted desperately.

Hot, wet, and delicious, their tongues battled for dominance as he stooped to gather her roughly against him.

She met him stroke for stroke, one hand gripping the collar of his robe as if she were drowning and he was the last boat off a sinking ship.

Heat rolled off his skin and she could feel it, invigorating her to grip him closer. It settled under her skin, sending signals to take, take all of it.

The back of her knees hit the booth as he pushed her back, and she jerked him sharply so his back was half-pressed against the seat.

"Granger," he gasped as their mouth broke apart, "you dirty Mudblood."

She slid one knee over his thighs, pinning him in the booth seat. "Shut it, you bloody wanker." She pressed against his mouth the way her body pressed against his.

His hands lifted her hips and soon the table dug into her back as she grinded on his lap. Mouths sealed together, one hand tangled in her hair the way she gripped the back of his neck.

There were so many layers between them, she had to fight the strong urge to rip them apart.

The next time they broke apart his green-flecked hazel eyes met hers. "I always knew you were gagging for it."

Her upper lip lifted, "I doubt you have enough to gag on, Nott."

His grip on the back of her neck tightened, and they were kissing again. She bit his lip, and he gripped her thigh so hard it hurt.

Hermione knew she wasn't into pain at all, but that heat from his skin kept her pleasantly immune to the discomfort of his fingers digging into her flesh.

She explored his mouth with the coppery taste of blood from her bite, gripping the back of his neck hard. She felt herself pull hard on his hair, so hard his head tilted back.

She bit his neck.

His hips bucked against hers, a hiss leaving his lips.

"Get a room. Now." It almost shocked her the words came from her mouth and not his.

She pulled herself to the side, off his lap as she regarded him with a heavy-lidded gaze.

He looked at her, his mouth swollen and color high in his cheeks. But he got up, somewhat unsteadily, and disappeared in the direction toward the bar.

Hermione sucked in a deep breath, the sudden coolness leaving her befuddled.

 _What was she doing?_

He reappeared before she could figure that one out, crawling on the seat and pressing her back against the seat as his mouth claimed hers.

It was uncomfortable, her knee halfway wedged between them and the table side digging into her side, and yet she she consuming his mouth with hot abandon.

He passed something hard and cool into her palm. "Now," he whispered.

A room key.

She gripped the back his short hair, forcing his head back. Heat crawled against her skin like a living thing, her fingers curled into the hold. It felt like there was talons just beneath the surface, and yet she didn't shrink away.

"Now," she breathed hotly against his neck.

The path to the stairs was navigated by both of them, his leaned heavily against the wall before continuing up, fingers gripped tightly around hers.

They embraced against just outside of one of the doors, his fumbling around the lock allowed her to sharply nip around his neck.

His breathing was heavy and unsteady, aroused and frustrated, before he got the key in and then the door opened.

She pushed him inside, pinning him against the wall as she kept him at her level with a renewed grip on the back of his neck. Her imagination fired, desperately wanting to feel skin beneath the robes. Everytime he pressed against her, he could almost, but not quite, feel him against her stomach.

Her fingers itched to yank the layers between them out of her way. It was imperative she did so.

Every hitch in his breathing, every half-groan sent her deeper into needing this, right now.

She barely landed on the bed before he whispered against her mouth, "I'll be right back."

He made his way toward the conjoining bathroom, only stumbling once before locating the knob and opening it to disappear inside.

The sound of rushing water filled her ears.

How considerate of him, to wash up before he joined her.

She took a seat on the bed, lips curling into something smug and satisfied. It raced along her veins and deeper yet, she felt as if the aching between her thighs contrasted with the rapid heartbeat in her chest and excitement.

He was ripe for the plucking.

But there was something else, trying to remind her of...of what? It kept nagging at her as she listened to the water run.

Lust and hunger banked deep within her, trying to drive out all other thoughts.

Yet she had never stopped thinking, not even during that horrid time she was Petrified.

 _Malfoy was raging about you._

Why would he rage about a successful mission?

And yet she had never heard one word about...successful. Her young partner had been so grateful to be alive… Harry had been so pleased to see her awake, then that awkwardness had distracted her…

Nobody had said one word about the Veela who attacked her.

 _Had it survived?_

That thought was so sobering that she looked around the room with a critical eye. Comfortable with a single bed and a washbin close by. It was clean, the linen on the bed looked soft.

Was she here to...to shag Theodore Nott? Really? She wasn't even _drunk_ , which might, in theory, excuse such an ill-thought out, inhibition-free action.

The water in the loo turned off, and she stood up, suddenly in a panic.

She walked quickly to the door, hearing the door behind her open as she fled. Down the stairs and out the otherwise innocent pub, uncaring of how she looked.

Despite the unease about the slight amount of alcohol she actually consumed, she Apparated the moment she felt it safe.

Normally it squeezed deeply, but this time she was hardly affected as she appeared outside the flats. It really did feel as if she were simply stepping from one place to another.

It wasn't until she was in her own sitting room and sitting on her sofa that she pulled out her wand again.

She slowly dropped the wand on the pillow next to her, and tried to wandlessly summon a glass. It rushed into her hand instantly. She filled it with water with a simple Aguamenti, still unsettled by the lack of wand.

Wandless magic had been practiced often in training, but this was as simple as flicking a wand. No concentration needed.

Hermione sipped her water, deeply unsettled by the ease she could summon a blanket, refill her glass, and recall thoughts of the creature she had wounded so greviously.

 _Had its body been found?_

She ignored the ache thrumming under the surface, instead telling herself she had everything under control.

* * *

Author Notes:

Update!

I do so hope those that the M rating, or the implications of the summary, might leave you not be too horrified by the adult content. It only goes downhill from here. ;D

For those few that are awaiting an update for my other fic, it will be updated tomorrow, promise! I've had some computer trouble in the last few days, and it really threw off my update schedule! D:


	5. Chapter 5- Malfoy

Hermione Owled off a letter requesting permission to visit the Hogwarts library first thing in the morning.

She would have sent another to Harry asking about the details of the assignment in Greece, but she had already received one saying he would be out on a case and good luck with Malfoy.

Visiting that sneaky git of a boss was high on her priorities. He bloody well knew she was out of St. Mungo's, it was rotten of him to not send her the details of her status.

Yet she knew exactly what he would say the moment she asked him.

'I thought you might have been at home, recuperating. I figured we could discuss it when you were well enough to come in'. Then he'd work in somehow that last time she was injured she left without Healer approval.

Hermione clothed herself wandlessly and nonverbally, the buttons along her back sliding up easily.

Feeling rather guilty for doing so, she firmly picked up her wand and slid it up one sleeve. No more _testing_ _the limits_. It was an ill-gotten surge and she knew it, because she had felt the heat soaking into her skin last night the longer they touched.

Even though Nott was an arrogant arse, she really hoped he wasn't suffering a magic depletion.

Arranging her hair at the back of her head, and spelled it into place - last time she'd forego her wand, honest - she headed out the door.

The Ministry was typically busy, and she had to wind her way through to one of the emptier elevators. She climbed in with two strangers, thank Merlin, and watched the doors close almost all the way when someone darted in between at the last second.

He straightened up immediately, smoothing down his hair and straightening his collar.

Hermione tried to sink back closer to the wall.

"Oh, Hermione. Good morning." Percy smiled at her, one as neat and inoffensive as his pressed black robes.

"Morning." Barely meeting his eye, she looked at the numbers, willing the light to travel faster. It wasn't that she disliked him, she really didn't. Despite his mistakes, she did believe in second chances.

"I heard you were in St. Mungo's. Are you feeling better now?"

"Yes." She breathed deeply as 2 lit up. She could feel his eyes still on her.

"You know," he began, "if you ever need to talk, my office-"

The doors slid open, revealing sweet, sweet escape.

"This is my floor! Excuse me." She hurried past the two people right in front, hating herself for the cursed twinges of warmth. Percy?! It couldn't just be anyone, she had felt nothing with Ron or Baddock.

Perhaps, other than his less than friendly qualities, he had always been very strong academically. He had gotten top grades in twelve OWLs, and as the overshadowed middle child, often his help went unnoticed.

He made Ginny take Pepper-up potion during her first year when she looked awful, due to being possessed by Voldemort, and not-so-discreetly tailed Harry when they thought Sirius Black was after him.

And she heard him talking to Penelope in the infirmary when she was Petrified.

Still, she was eager to leave him behind, unsettled at the thought perhaps some part of her found him to be attractive. Not to mention he was engaged to Penelope Clearwater now.

Sweet Merlin she prayed she wasn't only attracted to taken men. That had always been terribly wrong to her.

Nott was probably making some poor Pureblood Witch's life miserable by dating her.

The only men attacked in Greece were in relationships...

On the other hand if that was true, luckily Malfoy was single. And how did she know that? He was fairly famous on the media level, the man soaked up all the attention and never dated outside the periphery of a journalist's camera.

Straightening her shoulders and tilting her chin up, she walked down the hall to and past the offices toward the Director's office.

To be fair, she tried turning the latch. It didn't budge.

A silent _Alohomora_ wasn't successful either, but she felt a protective spell trip after she tried. Looking toward the ceiling and closing her eyes, she waited for the inevitable…

"May I help you?" Head Auror Baddock strode down the hall with a smile as slick as his coiffure.

Deep inside something miffed rose up from her chest and threatened to erupt from her lips.

Hermione barely kept a civil tone. "My meeting with Malfoy? I believe I mentioned it yesterday."

"Yes, but he's not free for another-"

"Now, Baddock." She enunciated carefully, reaching for the latch again. This time she ran over the short list of unlocking spells that would counteract nearly anything he could think of.

 _Paterui!_

 _Patefacio!_

 _Laxumavi!_

The latch still didn't move. How clever of Malfoy. There were many spells that needed another component to work, the most simple being that of a password. He probably needed to be on the outside of the door.

As if he had some idea what she was doing, Malcolm smiled quite smugly. "He's very busy."

 _Apertobis!_

CRACK.

Hermione smiled calmly as the door moved inward to her right. She simply isolated the spell inward and moved it with the door.

Sauntering inside of the office, Baddock strode after her with mouth open to protest. The door shut back in place, right in his outraged face.

"Clever, Granger." came the drawl from her left.

Once a somewhat cluttered office with mundane furniture that was functional and light, it was now the picture of a Pureblood den replete with an aristocratic figure.

The desk he sat behind was properly magnificent; a huge mahogany affair with black iron accents running along the legs and border. The slightly blackened fireplace had been redone in bronze and cast iron, the shell done in detailed scroll.

Large bookshelves with matching volumes and heavy, expensive decorations, and in small marble rectangle with just a few pieces of parchment resting in it.

His incoming work...what did he do, she thought disgustedly, just sit and look pretty?

Draco Malfoy had grown into his pale hair and pointed face; the tips of platinum locks curled just above his ears, his sharp jawline turning the outline of his face utterly masculine. His silvery eyes glittered with either malice, amusement, or both as he watched her from that ostentatious behemoth of a desk.

Hermione smiled as she took in his shoulders beneath the tailored cut of the superfine cloak. It opened at his throat, revealing a glimpse of cloth so white it could have been freshly fallen snow.

She bypassed the two dragonhide sofa chairs situated in front of the desk and came around to within arm's length from him. She took a seat right on the polished surface of the wood, crossing one leg over the other under the deep crimson skirt.

Malfoy turned in his seat, a cocky curve to his mouth. "My, my. Getting comfy, are we?"

Her nose scrunched as she returned his sly smile with a devious one of her own. "I'd be much more comfy sitting elsewhere."

"Oh?" His fingers tapped nearly silently as it settled on the desk not an inch from her thigh. "Why don't you tell me all about it, Granger?"

 _With all your listening devices, you sneaky Slytherin?_ The thoughts dragged slowly through her though, wading through the langor like heated molasses pooling in her stomach. "Are you sure you're not _too busy_? I've been waiting for notification on my work status."

The sharper tone made his eyes narrow, his fingers curling away from her skin. "I assumed you were still recuperating. I'd hate for a repeat of last time."

That nearly sent her blood boiling in a different way, despite the prickles of hungry shocks along her exposed skin, signalling it didn't originate from herself. "Do I look weak or sickly to you?" She meant it to come out sarcastically, but the words coated themselves with honey and he shivered.

His light eyes coursed over her slowly, leaving her feeling as if she had much, much less on. "Just as infuriating as ever, I'd say."

Her leg uncrossed, knees pressed together as she leaned her weight back on one palm. "Do I frustrate you, Malfoy?"

" _Gods, yes_." He groaned, his eyes darkened hotly, but before either of them could move - and she wasn't sure which one of them would have - a loud knock interrupted the stifled hot air.

"Auror Potter is at St. Mungo's," came the voice from a tiny statue of Salazar sitting on the bookshelf behind him.

Muttering a curse, Malfoy stood up and moved quickly to the door.

Hermione caught her breath as she turned, a flutter of panic moving through the drugged desire like a Patronus through Dementors. She quickly followed him to see the door thrown open and Baddock's composed features.

For a second she hoped that he just said that to get access to the room. But no, he held an official St. Mungo's note in one hand that was easily recognizable.

* * *

Nearly all of the soft shivers had faded by the time she was was directed to the proper room. As the Director was notified first by the Ministry, she arrived before anyone else.

Throwing open the door, her eyes searching out her best friend. It was far from the first time they had visited each other here, especially after becoming Aurors, but each time she feared the worst.

Harry was flat on his back with several hospital grade powder-blue blankets draped over him, pale as a sheet. His lips were the same nasty shade as his skin, and he seemed to be shivering.

Sending a chair to his side immediately, she threw herself in it and leaned close to him. "Harry? Can you hear me?"

He slitted one eye open, the green especially bright against that unhealthy pallor. His nearly-white lips quirked in a smile. "Oh, how the tables have turned.." he joked slowly. He sounded much like he did after a blow to the head, a bit slow and trying his best to form words.

She smiled back, relieved he was awake."Please, you were knocked out practically every Quidditch game ever. I'm used to seeing you in bed." She teased, quickly ignoring the unintentional innuendo. She didn't feel _strange_ this time, thankfully enough.

He struggled to sit up, finally just resting his weight on his elbow. She quickly placed another pillow behind his back, familiar with the awkwardness of trying to carry on a conversation while lying prone.

"What happened?" she asked, once he was upright enough to feel comfortable.

"I don't remember." A sluggish flicker of annoyance crossed his features, before he sighed. "I'm so hot though. I can't stop shivering." As if in emphasis, a deep shudder wracked his body.

She reached for the blankets, intending to move them to find his hand to hold. It always made her feel better, and she sought out the contact.

He froze, then jerked a little as soon as she began to move the blanket. "Don't!"

Hermione hesitated, eyes flying back up to his wide green ones. "Bad injuries?"

"N-not exactly." Some color returned to his cheeks, he looked embarrassed. "I...am really hot." It all came out in a rushed mumble.

Puzzled, she tilted her head. "I just wanted to hold your hand."

After a moment, he moved his other arm from under the blanket and she gratefully held it. His skin _was_ hot, feverishly so. It was so hot it felt like it was seeping into her skin.

His eyes were so beautiful. She let out a small sound, swaying closer. Then she shook herself, hoping he hadn't noticed.

Harry cleared his throat, a bit more color leeching into his skin and lips. "I wasn't wounded, just unresponsive. I'm sorry I worried you." His speech was also less slurred now.

"Right." She was a bit distracted by the way to feeling crawled up her shoulder and poured into her chest and dripped down to the very core of her. "Umm.. you don't remember?" It was the last thing she could recall he said.

"I think...that..." He shut his eyes tight, frustrated before sighing. "I lost it. It feels like it's on the tip of my tongue though."

Hermione looked over him, the way he wasn't trembling as much. The blanket had slipped down one shoulder. Before she could formulate the thought he was undoubtedly _naked_ , something else caught her eyes. "What is that?"

"Oh." He quickly shoved the blanket back up, but she moved his hand to see.

Silver.

Not the faint silver scars she still had, but wide glittery marks as if someone had dipped their fingers in paint and stroked his shoulder to his chest. She wondered how far down it went.

"Harry…"

He was looking nearly normal now, lips pink and healthy, his skin reflecting that extra sun they had from having assignments outside.

"Hermione, are you alright?" His fingers squeezed hers, seeming to have no idea it sent shocks through her.

She shivered, and it wasn't unpleasant. "I have to go." She groaned, and stood up unsteadily. It felt like she was drunk.

"Hermione?"

The door opened before Harry could ask again, and she had never been so glad to see the Weasley's in her life, and that was saying something.

She left with murmured apologies to each beloved redhead on her way out, avoiding hugs and touches like the plague. Her skin had been so sensitive and charged earlier, but it was nothing compared to this.

As soon as she was able to, she _was_ immediately heading to Hogwarts, regardless of permission or not. She had no idea what was going on, and she was very, very tired of that feeling.

For now, Hermione knew the Burrow was empty, and she made her way to the guest Floos. It was familiar, homey, and had many rooms to crash in.

Plus, she couldn't get in any trouble there.

* * *

Author's Notes:

Of course, of course, right?!

I'm up and running again, if you're still reading, thank you for being so patient! I've missed writing like mad!


	6. Chapter 6 - Weasley Twins!

Hermione entered the homey space with a deep sigh of relief. Arthur and Molly were at St. Mungo's, all their children had moved out by now. Ron and Ginny lived at Grimmauld Place, though Ron was technically a temporary guest because he just had a breakup.

It sometimes amazed her how those unrequited, frustrated feelings she had for Ron faded so completely after the war was over.

Given her dating record in the past four years, sometimes she uneasily thought perhaps it was she that was fickle and the emotional range of a teaspoon.

Add that in with recent urges…

Hermione groaned as she leaned her head against the counter, having gravitated to the most comforting area of the house - the kitchen.

Honestly, she was simply trying to build a career. Perhaps not the career she thought she would have, but she was a damn good Auror and helped a lot of people.

The door banged open.

She nearly jumped out of her skin, and what a relief that would be, and whirled around with wand pointed at the twins.

Fred was the first to lift his hands, dressed in bits and pieces of his old Hogwarts Quidditch uniform. "I'm unarmed," he grinned at her.

The mixture of adrenaline and pleasant throbbing made her hesitate to lower the wand...but she did indeed. "What are you doing here?" she tried her best to keep her tone curious and not accusatory.

"George and I were out flying and trying to knock each other off our brooms'." He set aside his broom, which she recognized as the latest model, the Erinyes something or the other.

"That's safe." She stashed her wand back in her sleeve, looking away from their identical grinning faces. They'd have thought it was lark to get jinxed by her, the mad loons.

"We're working on new product...hoping to sell it to all the Quidditch teams. Except Chudley Cannons, just to twit Ron." George started pulling off the shoulderpads and gear, his shirt riding up his flat stomach.

Hermione hated herself for watching, nearly stuffing her fist in her mouth to stop from making an obvious sound.

Though the crawling voice in her head had disdained Ron as a 'shopkeeper', she had no such qualms about the twins apparently.

She remembered all too clear the day of the Battle of Hogwarts, where George saw the limp body of Fred. He was so badly injured that it took days before the Healers would even acknowledge that he _might_ live.

Hermione had spent just as much time as any Weasley sitting by his bedside, with the exception of Molly and George. And they continued the cycle after he woken up and started to heal. She only stopped taking shifts after that night...

"Where mum?" George asked casually, running his fingers through his hair after pulling his undershirt off and Accio'ing a fresh one.

"Harry is in the hospital." she muttered, pretending not to watch them. Why must they be so bloody casual about their bodies?

Both twins stopped in their shucking of gear, two sets of blue eyes flying her way. "Is he alright?"

A part of her wanted to say _no_ , he's not alright, rush out and see him. But the part of her that didn't like lying - or simply enjoyed the view - made her shake her head. "He's already been taken care of."

Both men relaxed, resuming pulling on bright blue shirts and frankly hideous trousers with 'WWW' printed all over them in orange. Yet it was familiar and not at all deterring her greedy gaze.

"You alright there?" Fred asked finally, looking her over. The horrible part was that after that night, her first night, the night she didn't visit him again, he never brought it up again. He never even teased her about it.

Perhaps he had been ashamed or embarrassed. It wasn't like Fred Weasley to avoid a topic that could be made funny.

"Too soon to visit St. Mungo's again, really." She assumed everyone knew she had been there with the way news spread in this family.

George nodded, leaning around her to pick up a slice of freshly baked bread. "We came to visit while you were there."

"You did?" That was strangely touching.

"You were sleeping. I convinced Fred to not place a Daydreaming Charm on your face."

She shot the other twin a dour look. "Thanks George. I'll know to tell you two apart by who's not an utter prat."

"There are other ways to tell us apart." Fred winked at her, running a hand down his clothed chest.

Hermione rolled her eyes, even though the horrifying image of his freshly **destroyed** chest came up. The damage had been mostly healed, but he'd have some of the scars forever. Much like everyone from the war, really.

"Right." She took a piece of bread and nibbled on it. She was trying so hard to pretend that her very fingertips weren't practically tingling with their proximity.

Fred had come up behind George, peering at her face. "You're looking.." he trailed a finger across her cheek.

Her sharp intake of breath changed the very air around them.

"...fetching." George murmured, before looking away.

She could feel it, feel the intrigued twitch from him, and the keen awareness of the other. It crawled underneath her skin in marvelously tempting ways.

Fred finally let his hand fall, glancing at it with almost detached curiosity. He felt the heat of her skin, she had felt it a tendril transmit to him. Whatever had poured into her skin from Harry greedily had slipped past his skin, and she _knew_ it did.

Which meant she was solely responsible for anything that happened, because she shouldn't have came here. It had seemed like such a safe assumption, nobody even bloody lived here anymore!

"Hermione is always fetching." Fred almost reached out again, but fingers poised mid-air just above her skin.

Even so, it pushed against the sensation trembling around her.

She couldn't be sure if she shifted toward him, or he swayed toward her. But there she was, shivering as her chest brushed his, their eyes locked on each other.

Fred ghosted a hand along her arm, blue eyes flickering to her mouth. He still looked good to her, the light spray of freckles running along his nose to cheeks to the line down his neck. She wanted to trace it with her teeth.

The tip of her tongue wet her lips slowly, nerves and an invitation all at once. She ran her fingers along his forearm, skimming the fine hairs and noting the dusting of freckles that she had stared at many times.

And when their lips mets a jolt ran from his skin to hers, moving between them.

He kissed her like he meant to claim it, tilting his head and slotting their mouths just right against each other. As she makes a desperate little sound, his tongue slides into her mouth, slow and deep.

She fisted the fabric of his shirt, losing all semblance of sanity for a moment as her calf curls around his. His hands gripped her elbows, not drawing her in because she's already _there_ , pushing hard against his body.

When they break she sucks in a shuddering breath, and his eyes are burning right into hers before their mouths meet again, hungrily.

A scraping sound to her right as George tries to move back slices through her lust-addled mind, and she shoves him closer without touching him. She didn't mean to, _she didn't_ , but she could feel the unsteady heat from his skin.

Moving her mouth away from Fred's, she looks at George with drugged eyes and whispers, "Come here."

His chest is moving in small shallow breaths as he closes the distance between them. Their mouths meet in abandon, though she could feel a curl of uncertainty from him.

 _Haven't they ever shared a girl before?_

The thought of the two brothers together thrills and shames her, and she wasn't really sure which emotion was stronger.

Her heat pours into his skin from her lips and tongue, and he's shivering harder than his brother. Sweet Merlin she hoped that he wasn't unwilling. Then his tongue twines around hers and he's less dominant than Fred, but the way he strokes each sensitive point leave her weak kneed.

His hands gripped her waist firmly, thumbs running lines over her ribcage, making her push against his hands needily. She could feel Fred pressing scorching kisses along her neck, and she moaned into George's mouth.

At some point she moved to kiss Fred again, wedging her back against George as he bit her neck from behind. She pressed into his chest and...other things, delighting in rubbing against both at once.

It also left her free to thrust her tongue into Fred's mouth, his shirt still clenched into her fists as she spread her knees to cup the outside of his thighs.

It was all spinning out of control too fast, but every time she tried to withdraw from the heat of one she encountered the shivering want of the other.

 _Trapped._

George's palms moved from her waist to lightly cup her breasts through the fabric, and she made another needy sound against Fred's mouth. This encouraged him, because of course it did, and soon she had his hot palms against her bare skin.

He plucked at and circled her nipples, drawing positively filthy sounds from her throat as she sucked on Fred's tongue and gripped the top of his trousers. Why did she have so many clothes? Why did he? It occurred to her that she could strip them all right now without a word, without even moving her hand from its position along his hipbones.

 _No, no._

She couldn't. Just like the wrenching urge to bite them, bite one or both, she couldn't give in. The voice nearly screamed at her to do just that, and she couldn't _give in_. Because she wanted to demand they turn their attentions on each other, just to see their mouth locked together and have Fred fuck his mouth the way he was hers. Deep and good and so hot. And it wouldn't be right like this.

Fred stroked her cheek with his thumb and she palm the back of his hair, pulling until he gasped. Her thigh rubbed between his, and he was so damn hard.

His hand slid up her skirt and settled on her bare thigh, and she didn't protest.

"Please...please." Her fingers curled around his wrist wanting to direct him, but he didn't need the help once the plea left her lips.

He palmed the very heat of her, fingers sliding into her slick depths. All the clever care he had showed promise for was now fully developed, and he played her until she was gasping and pleading.

"No...don't stop, ahhh…" She pressed her palm against his wrist more firmly, and as an reward, his thumb pressed against the swollen nub demanding attention. With all the attention paid to that needy button, she couldn't stop shuddering as he swiped twice, three times.

She cried out, everything building and shattering, every fiber in her blood and muscles and magic. She came while panting against his mouth. It poured from her and sucked right back in as Fred ground against her thigh, gasping as his movements broke up. She could feel the throbbing as he throbbed and spilled between them. George was pressed against her bum, sharply moving before he groaned as well against her neck, the sounds mingling perfectly with his brother's.

She couldn't remember sliding down with George, with Fred's weight on her until she opened her eyes.

Everything was bliss and satisfaction, even though her legs were somewhat awkwardly twined with another and the warm weight beneath her. It took her a moment to realize all three collapsed, her orgasm dragging all three down with her in the best ways.

Her body thrummed with satiation and energy all at once; she didn't want to move but she could move mountains. And it was that momentary place between clarity and lust that she sat up abruptly, eyes wide. _What had she done?_

The beast inside hummed contentedly, and she had never hated it more as she stood up on unsteady legs and hunted for the Floo powder. The flames barely turned green before she was in her own flat, the elated sensation under her skin impossible to ignore.

The part of her that cried coward! was embarrassed for her fleeing, but that coyly pleased part insisted she go back and apologize… on her back. On her knees, if she had to.

Hermione huddled on her couch and pulled her hair between her fingers to drive out the maddening dichtomy of knowing one thing and wanting another. She absolutely was going to Hogwarts, response or no.

Once she was cleaned up.

* * *

Author's Notes:

The envy of me, honestly. XD

Happy Birthday Fred and George Weasley!

I actually had planned this scene out long before today! Who can have a fun sexy romp without the twins?

Hope you enjoyed, and read and review if you'd like!

As a further side note, should you be curious about my twisty turny thoughts while plotting out a fic, there's always a 'what if' in my fanfictions. As it turns out, this 'what if' is Fred living, and as a result, Ron helps out in the shop but Harry and Hermione do not. (In my headcanon all three help George after the war.) This leads Harry to want to become an Auror earlier, and Hermione joins because she couldn't just let him do it alone.


	7. Chapter 7 - Research

Hermione showered twice.

Not because she felt bad or dirty, but because she felt so bloody good. Bathing had always been a pragmatic activity, except if she were especially sore or muddy (or bloody) and even then, it was the result of feeling clean that was so satisfied.

This time she scrubbed and used her nicest smelling soap, a mixture of the base note ylang ylang and top note of jasmine. She couldn't identify the middle note by scent alone, but she breathed it in deeply as she lathered her skin.

The white foams sliding down her shoulders and arms was fascinating, the water turning to trickles and drips down her hands.

She briskly shook her head and continued to lather her hair. Making sure to do everything by hand, including things she had fallen out of the habit of, she rinsed her hair and shut off the water.

Hermione dried off, wrung her hair, slid on her strict styled robe, slate gray with crimson cuffs, and let her curls air-dry.

 _Tap tap._

A school barn-owl was tapping at her window, and Hermione opened it wandlessly before she even thought about it.

Grumbling under her breath, she took the letter and gave the owl a treat and a perch to rest on.

 _Hermione,_

 _The Hogwarts library is at your disposal if you need it. My password is '_ mince and tatties' _. I am looking forward to your visit._

 _Minerva_

Hermione had to smile at the familiar way the Headmistress ended the letter. It was still strange to call her by her first name, but Minerva had been quite insistent.

She finished dressing and managed to work a brush through her still damp hair, positively the worst time to try and tame it.

She itched to dry it magically and separate the tangles, but she was stubborn. When it was finally no longer giving her grief, and pinned it loosely back and head out the door.

Travelling to the school was much easier with Apparition, even though much less nostalgic.

Until she arrived at her former school.

Even though Hermione had been on hand to help rebuild the school for the month following the war, she still gazed up at the castle in wonder.

She tilted her head as she approached the invisible protective barriers. It allowed her through, of course, but her attention was riveted by the shimmering layers over Hogwarts like an imperfect globe.

Some spots were thicker than others, such as the ground to the first twenty or so feet. She recognized the specific repelling charms against an assortment of Forbidden Forest creatures.

In fact, the longer she stared the more the various shades became clearer and clearer.

Hermione walked further inside, closer to the school with her eyes fixed upward. Chills were racking just under her skin, but she paid them no notice.

She had seen, through a window, the barrier cracking under the pressure of spells thrown from the outside. It had shattered and burn before her young horrified eyes, and the sight would always be burned there, rising up sometimes during a place between sleep and waking.

Closing her eyes for what felt like forever, liquid heat trembling under her eyelids, she lifted her wand.

Opening her burning eyes, she whispered " _Protego Totalum,_ " as she watched the layers above her. Even though it was a single incantation, unlike other protection wards, she kept her wand trained at the sky as she poured every bit of magic bursting under her skin into the spell.

Seconds passed by as slow as baby flobberworms, but her arm ached before she ever felt drained. Pushing down the frustrating, she lowered her arm and breathed out slowly.

Tiny disturbances in the air high above, like peering through a heat wave, signified the spell had worked. She kept her eyes turned straight forward as she approached the double doors.

Hagrid wasn't in or near his hut, disappointingly enough. She did make her way to the gargoyle guarding the Headmistress' office, and he leapt aside at the amusing password.

She spent a lovely half hour catching up with Minerva over tea and biscuits. Hermione left out some recent details, but there were many other interesting personal and professional tidbits she could share.

Such as the night they persuaded Kingsley to attend a stag party for Seamus Finnegan on the promise it would be small and private, and it quickly became clear that Kingsley could hold his liquor.

Headmi-Minerva laughed gaily at the description of their Minister of Magic climbing on a statue of Agrippa, only slipping once, and declaring he would give an Order of Merlin to anyone who could down more Flaming Orc Grog than him.

Minerva held up a hand, slightly flushed from laughing, "No, is that why…?"

Hermione giggled, "Yes, that's exactly how Harry, Seamus, and Neville earned their Third-Class Order of Merlin. Kingsley had to ambiguously explain it off as 'gallant acts of bravery', luckily two were Aurors. But they earned it, I had one and they taste _awful_."

They both broke up at that, and Hermione wiped away a tear from the corner of her eye as she wound down.

Minerva reached over to pat her hand, skin feeling dry and somehow delicate. She was getting older, as she often said herself, a fact that never failed to surprise Hermione. Minerva's hair was now fully white, and she still walked with a cane during the worst storms of Scotland.

"I should let you resume your research, dear girl. Do come and visit when you're not keeping those boys in line."

Hermione smiled and readily agreed, touched once again at the invite. She left and made her way to the library, walking down the halls that she had helped rebuild.

Yes, she supposed she still helped keep her boys in line. The strength of their friendship was apparent in, despite their busy lives and Ron's different occupation, they still made time for each other often.

In fact, this Veela business was one of the first secrets she had kept from them in a long time.

There was a new librarian, but she had a very familiar scowl on her face at seeing someone cross the threshold. Pince had always been a bit manic about the state of her books, looks like that trait had been cultivated in her successor as well.

Hermione made sure to be very careful with the books she piled on a desk in the furthest reaches of the large room.

Most of the most promising books barely had any information at all, and certainly nothing useful. There simply hadn't been many studies done on the creature outside of their appearance, capabilities, and how to subdue or repel their charms.

Helpful, but not quite what she was looking for.

She picked up a book toward the bottom of the pile titled _Crossroads: Mingling Wizard and Creature Magic._

She had actually read parts of the book before during a search for more information on house elves. As she flipped past that and the section about demonic deals, she spotted a short section on Veelas.

 _Veelas were once considered benevolent creatures before the 1600's. Mentions of Veelas in history, under different names, often likens them to helpful spirits or love goddesses._

She skipped past the mythological creatures and deities that Muggles had mistaken Veela for.

 _Before Magical Being classification, if a witch came across a Veela, many made an exchange of a drink of Veela blood for accrued magical power. The witch would go on to find and attract a powerful husband, and offer the energy procured during coitus to the Veela._

 _This practice ended when one Potions Mistress, Felisberta Schuler, created the earliest version of Amorentia, which requires Veela blood. Due to the popularity of the love potion, ingredient gatherers killed many of the gentle creatures._

 _In reaction, Veelas began to become hostile and unfriendly, stealing magical power straight from wizards and, at times, targeting Muggle men maliciously._

 _Developing into a creature classified as Highly Dangerous, common knowledge of their other abilities fell out of public awareness. However, some witches would still make deals with a Veela. However, the offer was not the same. It was often to seek vengeance on a former lover or rival, marking the wizard for the Veela to pursue._

 _This would continue until the witch took a mate, thus bringing the Deal to an end, or became a Veela herself._

Hermione flipped the next few pages anxiously, but there was nothing more. Checking the footnotes of the short section, she copied down the title and author and began to long process of searching the library shelves.

However, she could not find the one book referenced even though she poked in dusty corners and checked sections it wasn't likely to be in.

Her mind turned over the unhappy information before she stopped, mid-reach for a book.

 _Marking the wizard?_

Of course, that's why Harry had been attacked. It made her skin crawl to think about what the Veela had done to him. But he hadn't any visible marks, and she knew from other readings that a Veela attack left deep puncture marks from...err, the amorous activities.

Plus the wizard would be weak and drained.

Harry, while unconscious, had certainly not been drained of anything until _Hermione_ came along and siphoned the extra heat plaguing him.

Oh. Oh! If a Veela wanted to enchant a wizard for use later, she poured natural charm into him over time. Maybe the Veela was _helping_ her by using their connection to take the wizards marked and filling them with lust.

She had a bloody Matchmaker.

It might not be altruistic though. Perhaps instead of the Veela's effort resulting in a Mate, which ended the deal, the Veela was trying to make Hermione 'suck' magical power.

Hermione thought, nibbling on her bottom lip. Merlin, how many wizards had she marked? Was it everyone who she was attracted to, or did it need some touch? Harry had brushed his fingers against her bare skin.

She hadn't touched Neville's skin, but she most certainly had her hands on his robes and shamelessly flirted.

Rubbing her forehead and trying not to think too hard on the next several encounters, she catalogued the possible Marked men so far.

Which one to warn or protect first? Hermione could manage a lusty wizard, but what if the Veela got frustrated or bored and tried to take the power straight from the source?

That could kill a wizard, damnit.

Hermione pocketed the bit of parchment with the sourced book and head down to leave. She'd have to order the book, because that's how her life was going so far.

Meantime, she kept turning over in her head which wizard would be the most likely next target.

She couldn't afford to be wrong.

* * *

Author's Notes:

Exposition chapter, amirite?

So who do you think might be the next victim?! For either the Veela or Hermione!

Hermione is so sweet, she is focusing on the Helping People part and not the other 'what the bloody hell' parts, I like that about her XD

Loving hearing the reactions so far and all the reviews, it keeps me on task during this troubling time of falling back into the habit of writing every day ;D


	8. Chapter 8 - Bloody Cormac

_Think, think._

Hermione knew both Harry and Neville were Aurors, and had experience with being hunted or targeted. Either of them could handle themselves. Next on her mental list was Theo.

She groaned. She had no idea where the former Slytherin would be when he wasn't making illicit deals with Malfoy - she assumed - or picking up witches at pubs. She didn't even know where the Nott residence was, though she could find that out if she just popped by the Ministry.

Unsurprisingly enough, she was reluctant to stop by again. She knew she would have to, because she still had matters to _resolve_ with Malfoy. And not the kind that her body was longing for, the traitorous thing that it had become.

Harry wouldn't be back at the Ministry yet, so asking him to find out wouldn't work. Percy worked in the department of Magical Transportation, but he bended the rules for nobody. He might, if she went down in person… _No! No._

In the end she simply penned a quick note to him and sent an Owl. That method wouldn't be immediate, but it would have to do. In the meantime she found herself pulling on a deep grey robe with crimson seams that had a much simpler cut than her normal severe style.

The White Rabbit was even busier than the other night, which was depressingly recent. Hermione did not often go out, and rarely by herself. She toyed with the idea of inviting Ron, since he was the only person she felt safe around that she could stand.

"Unicorn Blood, please." She ordered once she got the attention of the bartender, and smiled when he passed it along. She was fairly sure he remembered her and her non-alcoholic preferences.

The moment she threw down the payment, and a generous tip, she realized he had not, in fact, remembered at all. It did taste amazing with Silver Jinx tequila, hot and smooth and traveled down to her toes.

The noisy ambience of the crowd drowned out a thousand thoughts that wanted to spring to the forefront of her mind. Instead the conversations separated, sometimes, and blended together at seemingly random intervals.

"Could you imagine? She just kept going on and on about how Sandra stole her son with her fancy robes and colored hair. Mad, mad."

"Look, I pulled out several dragon steaks earlier, and we better go soon…"

She had paid for one, she might as well drink it. Taking a long drink, she took out a second to try and remember when she ate last. Hmm. Had she ate lunch?

She had already searched for Theo and didn't see him. She would just stay until she finished her drink.

"Did you pick up my new dress robes? You spilled ale on them last week!"

"Are you sure? I don't want to impose…"

Hermione blinked at her empty glass. It was such a thin glass, really. She held up two fingers for him to bring another, and was surprised when he slid two in front of her. Well, it would be a waste if she didn't drink them.

Checking how much she brought, she was almost disappointed to find that she had certainly brought enough funds to continue to drink at this pace until she couldn't Apparate home. And the Knight Bus was packed once it reached midnight, packed full of drunken wizards with itchy wand hands.

She wouldn't have any more after these two.

"And his face was inches from mine. I was so nervous I tripped over nothing and was so embarrassed."

"I rescued the child before he could take a nosedive right over the cliff. My uncle, Tiberius you know, said that I should have earned an Order of Merlin, considering how risky it was. I nearly went over myself."

That voice. That swaggering tone, that pompous self-aggrandizing _voice._

Hermione spun the straw twice in the drink as her lip curled in a sneer. The memory of a monologue that literally hadn't ended from the moment she had greeted him on their 'date' to when he descended on her like a lipstick-smeared aunt with bifocals landing a kiss on Thanksgiving sprang up in her mind.

She wondered, with a snicker, if he had ever gotten better at kissing. There had to be some witch out there that didn't need to wash her face after he snogged her lips. The uncharitable thought wasn't like her, at least the smirky condescension of it.

She squinted at her drink, silently blaming the contents. If only she hadn't assumed that a bartender, who served many, many faces a night, would remember her preferences. Perhaps, Hermione admitted, she had wanted a drink.

Downing the rest of her glass, she threw down a few sickles for an additional tip and turned around. She did run her fingers through her hair to feel if it was becoming unmanageable...then stopped. Her gaze moved from one end of the room to the other, narrowing once she caught thread of that voice again.

"...I did mention to the current Minister of Magic, I've known most of them you know, that I thought people should be rewarded for acts of bravery beyond the duty of civilianship. I mean, I've outdueled several Aurors, especially during the-"

Hermione moved off the barstool, standing on her own two feet as she spotted that smug face. It wasn't that he wasn't good-looking, he was, but his personality warped that fair, classically handsome face into something she wanted to grind under her heel.

Two witches sat at the small table with him, one clearly wishing she were anywhere else, and the other happily sucking on a straw. She had at least seven small glasses in front of her. While Hermione watched, she even nabbed her friend's drink and drained that dry.

McLaggen winked at the drunk one and held up three fingers. He had three drinks delivered as she watched, and the swaying little witch sucked down two immediately.

Hermione hated to think it, but clearly the one on the verge of becoming an unconscious heap had a problem. Her friend wasn't having any alcohol, undoubtedly so she could haul the petite witch home once the inevitable happened.

"Cormac, I'm obligated by my Healer to inform you that the rash I had is wizard-spread. I'm going have to suggest you get checked, before the green scales spread to your...wand." Hermione smiled as she stood in front of the braggart and his not-so-captive audience.

It halted his words immediately as he gawked at her. "Hermione Granger?"

"You remembered my name! It's too bad you didn't remember that certain, ah, afflictions can and will be passed to every witch you mess around with. I had to take three potions a day just to-"

"This seems personal we better leave!" The sober witch pulled her drunk friend to her feet, ushering her away. As she passed Hermione, she muttered 'Thank you' fervently before continuing on her way.

Cormac stared at her, mouth parted in consternation. "What was that all about?"

Before his chest could get all puffed out with indignation, Hermione scooted a chair right beside his and slid on it with a lazy smile. "Shut up, McLaggen." And when he opened his mouth to protest, she cast a silent _Silencio._

He looked even more offended, one hand flying to his sleeve…

Hermione held up his wand after it flew into her grasp, smirking. She pulled it out of his reach when he tried to snatch it. "Ah ah, not without permission." Tapping his nose, she smiled in his furious face. "Merlin, I hoped I'd never see you again."

She leaned close and trailed a finger down his cheek, even when he jerked his head to the side. "Look at you, McLaggen. Pathetic. Your uncle's connection couldn't buy your way on a Quidditch team, and Kingsley won't let you move right into a Department Head. Oh, I heard all about your efforts to become the new Head of MLE."

She should probably be grateful to Malfoy for preventing that. She wasn't, but she did know Cormac would have undoubtedly been worse.

Cormac squinted at her with impotent anger, moving to stand up. He failed spectacularly as he was suddenly shoved back into his seat without her laying a hand on him.

Hermione smiled at him, leaning so close they could have breathed wrong and ended up kissing. "I just want to see if you've improved," she whispered against his mouth. Using one hand to yank the front of his robe closer, she kissed him. It was hard and bruising and he clumsily moved his mouth against her onslaught.

She bit his lip, shoving her tongue past his gasp and devouring the alcohol-tinged taste. He had been drinking Firewhiskey and Pepperrum, neither of which she found appealing. Just the same as she felt about him, and yet here she was, sucking on his tongue with purpose.

For fun, she removed the Silencing spell, and he was making helpless noises in the back of his throat.

Disgusted, she recast the spell and breathed in the heat pouring off his skin. He had been shivering even before she touched him. She broke the kiss, if one could call it that, to whisper in his ear. "You like this, don't you? You _want_ me to tell you what a worthless wizard you've turned out to be. And you're still a piss-poor kisser, if we're going to be honest."

His angry twitch and quickened breathing was answer enough for her.

Moving to stare at him right in the eyes again, she rubbed her nose against his cheek and captured his mouth. Moulding her lips against his, she swept her tongue against his and pulled away when he did something she didn't like. Again and again, until he grasped the concept of running the tip of his tongue in exploration instead of poking around her mouth in a show of dominance.

She was the only dominant person tonight. "You _really_ like this. Filthy and needy, aren't you, positively gagging for a witch to come along and tell you what to do."

His arousal came in spikes and waves against her skin. It swept her along, but never in a way she couldn't handle. When his hand touched her shoulder, she bit his lip again. Not too hard, but he had a whiny pout of hurt as he yanked his hand away.

"Don't bloody touch me," she hissed, twisting her fist in the fabric of his collar, until she was sure it would leave a pink line against his neck. "Did I say you could? Your problem, McLaggen, is that you don't _listen._ "

His eyes were wide, pupils expanding into the iris, chest falling and rising rapidly. He had given up all pretense of trying to speak, parted lips swollen and red.

She smoothed her hand over his cheek, almost petting. "You don't, because nobody listens to you. You can talk forever, but it doesn't matter because you don't matter. When is the last time anyone cared about you?"

A sheen of a different sort of hurt entered his gaze, never wavering from hers. They were even moist, the taste of his shattering vulnerability coated her tongue and mouth like spit and alcohol, but infinitely better.

Her voice dropped low as she leaned closer, breathing against his cheek. "That's because you're unlikeable. Unbearable, actually. That poor witch was pouring a bottle down her throat just because she couldn't stand you. Was she the daughter of one of your uncle's friends?"

Cormac swallowed, trying again to move his face away from hers. This time she used the hand that caressed him to jerk it back in place by holding onto his chin. All the heat that built under her skin moved slickly into him, but not unwillingly. Something in his greedily sucked it up, wanton, aching. His throbbing arousal was as obvious to her as if she could feel it.

"I wouldn't touch you, Merlin no. Do it yourself." She smirked against his cheek. "Don't get up, you're not allowed to leave until you've finished."

They weren't even at a corner table. The little round table was surrounded by laughing and drinking people, any of of whom could glance over and his him fumbling to reach under his robes. Her hand descended on his wrist, feeling the cords in his wrist tense. He was wrapping his fingers around himself.

His mouth moved silently, shortly, so she figured he was trying to talk. And she didn't care. She squeezed his wrist. "Don't you know how take care of yourself?" She let a sneer color her words. "You'd think so, since no decent witch enjoys you heaving on top of her. They just lie there because you're boring and self-centered."

The increase in his heat and lust slid against her skin, purring as it seeped readily back into her. All thoughts of metaphysical thievery had fled her mind as his pace increased, his thighs trembling the closer he brought himself.

"Stop."

His eyes bulged, but she could feel he did as he was told and halted. She pinned his wrist to the inside of his thigh, not harshly, but firmly. He could have pulled away from her. He didn't.

"Good boy." She watched him close his eyes at the approval. He looked sickeningly grateful for it. "You're doing real good, Cormac," Hermione murmured, releasing his wrist. "For that, you can continue."

He panted at the permission, the fingers of his trapped hand curling and uncurling in want. However, when she didn't let him move his hand, he stared at her desperately, pleadingly.

She smiled, a slow and self-assured curve tugging at her lips. "When I'm not at the table." She patted his cheek again, noting the way he leaned into the touch. "And I want to hear it." Her hand slipped away, and he didn't move.

"Good boy." She moved off the seat, whispering the countercharm to _Silencio_ as she turned her back and walked away. Even over the cacophony of drunken conversations she could hear him sharply groaning as he did as he was told.

A few gasps and shocked giggles from behind said that finally he had some onlookers. It certainly didn't deter him, a broken shout cut through the noise right to her ears. She could feel the release rush in a charged wave, filling her full of crackling energy just like when she grabbed Harry's hand at St. Mungo's.

She was savoring it as she made her way toward the door when she accidentally caught the eye of another patron.

Blaise Zabini watched as she passed, his head cocked as he regarded her curiously. He was dressed in a tailored robe the hue of freshly upturned earth, copper seams running down the outline of his body. Sitting next to a blonde witch who was talking at him, he didn't look away from Hermione when her eyes met his, but lifted an eyebrow instead.

And the high temporarily crashed for Hermione, leaving her cold and uncertain. Was he just staring at her like that because it was her, or because he had seen _everything_? What _had_ she been doing, messing with McLaggen and telling him those things...what was wrong with her?

The air was cool outside of the pub, nobody paying attention to the witch covering her face with her hands. She was _not_ the type who took pleasure in controlling anyone.

But maybe _he_ was?

The thought stopped her short, a more sure reason cropping up; _maybe her behavior was altering to inflame the wizard?_ It was still her doing it, she couldn't deny that, but it felt like stepping into a costume or casual play-acting. Being flattering and forward with Neville, insulting and baleful toward Theo...making Cormac submissive.

The twins? A deep shudder ran through her. She had thought it seemed as if they never shared a witch before. Perhaps they longed to. Perhaps...well, she would be a safe person for them to try it with, if that's what they needed. She _could_ make that sacrifice...

"Stop that, Hermione," she told herself, pinching her arm. It was just that she ran into the twins when hopped up on other's Veela-induced euphoria, and yes, she had been utterly unable to resist two wizards.

That was dangerous. She couldn't be alone with Fred and George until she found out how to break this connection. Luckily she didn't know of any other two wizards close enough to consider sharing, because that encounter had been far more tempting than any other she had as of yet.

Hermione ignored what that said about her, walking toward the direction of her flat until she was sober enough to Apparate, _if_ that even happened. And now she had another person to worry about the Veela attacking! She cursed the entire walk to her flat.

* * *

Author's Notes:

I'm sure she's kicking herself for leaving the house! But you gotta, Hermione, cause you gotta. XD This is my early birthday present to everyone! I mean, I know it's **my** birthday tomorrow, and I'm giving you guys the present but...I'm not sure how that works. But enjoy anyway :D


	9. Chapter 9 - Theo and Draco

"I should have known you were a tease."

The Floating Carafe, while elegant and quite busy this time of the morning, was certainly not the place to make proclamations like that.

Hermione turned in the chair, pulling a face as Theo approached. She had specifically requested a public place in the morning to avoid another...mistake.

He looked her over, his sharply handsome features twisted with scorn. That was stereotypical Pureblood trait number one she noticed, followed closely by the second which was to be well-dressed at all points. His robe was immaculate and snug on from shoulders to waist. There it flared out subtly, the front flaps pulling away at the knees to show the dark trousers legs.

Should she tell him that just because incorporating Muggle style was popular with wizards right now didn't mean it wasn't still Muggle?

"Why don't you take a seat, Nott." She used a bored tone of voice, taking a long sip of her Be-Easy Latte. A somewhat unfortunate choice of words, but it had a liberal dose of Calming Draught. The menu detailed which potion or addition each coffee had, ranging from Pepper-Up to Cheering Cordials.

He inspected the table, running one finger along the stained wood. "Not enough cover for you to climb under."

Hermione took another long drink of her latte. She might have to use the bottomless refill carafe offered to patrons that remained in the cafe just to make it through the conversation. His boorish behavior was going to get tiresome fast. "I asked you here because I have information you might find pertinent."

His dark brown eyes traveled to her face finally. "What must I exchange it for?"

"I'm a Gryffindor, it's bloody free." She wanted to jam him in the seat across from her, but resisted the urge.

He took a seat of his own volition, thankfully. "I suppose I should be relieved you left. You're such an antidote when I'm not pissed."

She thought he sounded like a sulky child after his mum denied him sweets. She should know, she had opportunity to be around several toddlers, thanks to Teddy and the growing Weasley brood. "Merlin, Theo. You should be used to not getting the Quaffle through the hoop."

"It's normally not difficult when the hoop is so large."

Hermione gripped her mug tightly, taking a deep breath. She would not retaliate, she would not force him to the ground to kiss the hem of her robes. He'd certainly be familiar with the _position_.

Calm down, Hermione.

"Are you looking for employment?" He suddenly grinned, eyes gleaming with interest. "I do need several security wizards."

"I haven't been _sacked_ , you git. I am trying to warn you that-"

"Oh Merlin, do you have a rash?"

Heat suffused her cheeks furiously as her fingers flexed around the mug. Normally she held her own more than adequately when he got offensive, which was about the same amount he spoke at all. He even felt as if he were somewhat puzzled, and it bothered her she could sense him under her skin.

He was making her so very _angry_ though. As if suddenly she were offended he wasn't giving her proper respect. _By Circes I demand respect._

That thought was so sudden and strange and foreign she sucked in a shocked breath. "Get out." Her voice was ragged with suppressed fury. "Before I do something I regret."

His eyes lit up with pleasure at her losing her composure. "If you're going to regret anything, regret that hair. Your friends. Your lineage. The way you refuse to stay in your place."

Curls of something burning and nearly tangible leaked from her skin, and he suddenly sat up straighter. Theo breathed in deeply, seeming unaware of what he was doing as his hands shifted restlessly on his thighs.

But she was.

"What place is that, Theo?" she asked, her voice dragging along his name.

He shivered, pupils blown wide as he stared at her.

"Beneath your heel? Under your command? In your bed?" She spun those words under honey before presenting him the coated pieces to suck on.

Theo's chest rose and fell unevenly, fingers digging into the robes riding up on his legs. His mouth worked for a moment, but it only served to pull in the tendrils of magic she could almost feel entering his nostrils and mouth.

"I want none of those things." Hermione smirked as he made a keening sound in the back of his throat, turning his wounded gaze on her. She could almost taste the struggle inside of him, fighting back for control. She had never cast Imperio before, though she had read up on it in fifth year and questioned Harry extensively, but it wasn't like this.

And the look on his face reminded her of the desperation inspired by the Veelas in a certain World Quidditch Cup that ended horribly, and after so much promise.

This was easy as flexing her fingers, and about as unconscious.

"What do you want?" he whined. "I could give you anything you desire. A castle anywhere in the world, precious stones, the very heart from my chest." He almost looked as if he were in pain. "Is that what you want, Hermione? I'll give it to you." He grabbed for the spoon next to her drink and angled it toward himself.

She scrabbled to wrest it from him, cheating by forcing his fingers off and Vanishing it once it was in hers. "I don't want your heart!" she hissed, looking around to see if anyone noticed. "Not figuratively or literally."

He gave her sad puppy eyes that nobody would have ever suspected he was capable of. "What do you want? I'll give you anything."

Hermione stopped, arrested. She tried to fight the way her breath sped up as she leaned closer to him. "Listen very carefully. But first, take off your shirt."

* * *

Hermione didn't know why she chose The White Rabbit again. It was far from the nicest pub she had seen, or the cleanest. It had nothing on Hog's Head as far as seedy and filthy, but she did her best to not touch anything in the room she rented.

"Can I touch your hair?" Theo hovered next to her as she waited anxiously by the door.

"No."

He stuck out his lower lip in a sulk, but kept his hands to himself. He remembered the Stinging Hex from earlier, obviously.

It had been hours since he sent off an Owl with a fairly enticing message offering to share a stash of 1913 Halliwell wine, a Russian wizarding family prominent in the business of making three dozen bottles a year and parcelling them out like some smuggled narcotic.

It was also made with a different Banned substance every year. She thought the batch chosen was apropos, as 1913 was the year that Veela's blood was added before it aged in barrels.

A sharp knock on the door had her pulling Theo in front of the door. "Get him inside, and get out."

He nodded and opened the door. in a quick move he yanked Malfoy inside.

"Hel-oh for Salazar's sake!" Malfoy scowled as he righted himself after stumbling, one hand quickly raising to smooth down his hair. "Calm down, Theo."

Theo didn't even respond before casting a doleful look at her and slinking out of the room and shutting it behind him. Malfoy looked confused, suspicious, then exasperated as he reached for the door.

"You should have reached for your wand. Constant Vigilance."

Malfoy turned quickly without touching the knob, silver eyes flaring wide before his eyelids dropped halfway. "Granger? What are you doing?" He looked over her, eyebrow raising.

"I just wanted to talk."

"How did you convince Theo?" He averted his gaze toward the door. One careless flick of his hand and the door unlocked.

She locked the door again without looking away from him. "I can be very persuasive. Now, about my work status."

Malfoy let out a humourless bark, shaking his head as he walked further into the room. "Merlin, Granger. You lured me out of the office so we could talk about work. How desperate are you to go back to work?"

The bubbling underneath her skin began to ebb away as she stared at him. He acted like it wasn't important. He _acted_ like she shouldn't be upset that he was withholding her job like a cruel kid dangling her bookbag just out of reach. He **acted** like she had never dealt with the menial assignments he foisted on her on purpose or placed other bullies above her unfairly.

Baddock most certainly didn't deserve the position of Head Auror. She didn't want it for herself, but nobody even liked him or wanted to take instruction from him. Everyone looked to Harry for instruction and guidance. Baddock's main asset was that he did whatever Malfoy told him. Malfoy still was the same old Malfoy and she rather hated him right now.

"It's my job, and-" Hermione started.

"Don't you have anything else in your life that's important?" He crossed his arms, staring at her as if she had lost her mind and picked up up a rock to replace it.

"Of course I do!" She raised her fist and thrusts them down to her sides, a rumble shaking the floor beneath them.

He started, looking from the floor to her with the look people gave moments before realization dawned.

"But my job is important too. It is to me, and you don't get a say in if it should be or not. I make a change in people's lives with every successful assignment, even the ridiculous ones you send to me." Careful now to not send off another bout of accidental magic, she kept her movements slow as she pointed at him. "I do have other priorities that I schedule into my schedule regularly. I never neglect my family dinners unless I'm on an assignment, and I have a lot of extended family in addition to the Grangers, like the Tonks and the Weasleys. You've been making my life hard for years, so I'll make this real easy for you. Just fire me Malfoy. I won't even fight you."

He stared hard at her, his expression somewhere between scorn and something that struggled to come to the surface.

"Because I know I have other important _priorities_ in my life. Do you?" She threw it out as a challenge.

To her great surprise, Malfoy swallowed. Then he sent her a hateful look. "No."

And when he unlocked the door this time, she let him.

He opened the door and paused in the doorway. "See you tomorrow morning."

Malfoy shut the door behind him when he left, leaving Hermione completely sober.

* * *

Author's Notes:

Wow. I never know what they're doing to do sometimes, you know? Okay, I never know all of the time, at least in this bumpy wild mad creature fic!

Please read and review if you want, I always enjoy your thoughts! I loved the suggestion about her making all the previously flirted with wizards strip to see if they had silver marks. I just about died with laughter and delight. It's certainly not off the table, love it!

You know, I was reading and enjoying social media when I saw that a really popular author put down fanfiction super harshly. It kinda made me sad, you know? We adore their world. I know I'd be flattered by the love someone had for my work.

Anywho, I know it's silly but I wanted to say if anyone wants to use any random detail I've used in these fanfics, I think that'd be quite dandy. I'd love a mention of that they came from Erosandpsyche, but it's not necessary AT ALL. But if you let me know about it, I'll mention your work, cause sharing is caring! :D

Here's an easy copy and paste for what I can remember offhand!

Floating Carafe - in Diagon Alley

Menu items with bottomless carafes

Be-Easy Latte - with Calming Draught

Perk-You-Up Coffee - with Pepper Up

? coffee - Cheering Cordial

The Lonely Siren - a travelling inn at the end of Hogsmeade. It has rooms by the HOUR teehee, and warm Butterbeer.

The White Rabbit - random pub in Diagon Alley.

Alcohols - Pepperum, Silver Jinx tequila (ingredient in Unicorn's Blood)


	10. Chapter 10 - Blaise Zabini

Hermione laid on her own bed, watching the ceiling. Her eyes were unfocused, but inside her thoughts swirled in a furious current.

What had gone wrong today? She had gone into the day thinking of helping people. Then everything went all wrong.

The way she kept Nott, overwhelmed and desperate and trapped, that was bad. Guilt warred inside with the crawl of satisfaction deep in her bones. It wasn't the same sort of satiation she felt after the twins, physical and plump and still needy somehow.

All of her accomplishments, all of her experiences with winning or triumph had been an earthy sense of overcoming the odds through her own hard work. This...sickened her the same way it elated her.

Eventually she left her bed and freshened up, images pushing against her mind. Theo's hopeless longing, the stark truth of Malfoy's, even the bloated obedience of McLaggen followed her.

She found herself in front of the fireplace, casting powder in and going to the first place she had found answers.

The Shell Cottage looked quite pleasant, with colorful toys toddling about and a giggling Victoire stacking wooden cups on top of another. Fleur was sitting on the couch, a lovely vision curled in a white robe.

For a moment Fleur resembled her magical creature heritage so strongly that Hermione almost recoiled.

Fleur lifted a hand in greeting, smiling brightly. "'allo!"

The impression faded and reality settled back in.

"Hello, Fleur." Hermione smiled and entered the room more fully, stooping to brush her fingers over the playing baby's hair. Victoire wasn't really a baby anymore, but it was hard to see her as anything else.

"Hello, Fleur. How are you?" she smiled, an approximation of happiness that felt like more of a grimace.

Fleur sat up straighter, flicking her wand as she stood up. "Tea?"

"Please." Hermione followed her into the kitchen and sat as the other witch prepared a tray for them.

She wanted to spill immediately, but waited until the silvery blonde had two cups of steaming tea on the table and a plate of premade biscuits.

Fleur looked at her seriously, reminding Hermione that she had once faced dragons and merpeople. "You are upset?"

Hermione looked at the table, stroking the smooth wood nervously. "What do you know about Veelas and deals with witches?"

Fleur sucked in a breath, picking up her teacup but not taking a drink. "Wut...why?"

Hermione kept her gaze on the table. "A case. I have a case with a witch that claims to have accidentally entered a deal with a Veela."

"Oh." Fleur smiled again. "Well, it is not something I know too well because it is, eh, not possible for me. But I know the story of my grandmuzzer."

She raised her head to stare at her curiously.

"She made a deal with a witch named Dany. many many years ago. It was good for them, Dany had many men. Her friend for many years, my grandfazzer, he loved her. She did not want to take a mate, and the Veela, Illona, she took the tender feelings, and she fell in love."

Hermione smiled a bit, it was quite sweet. It did have some odd implications though. "What happened to Dany?"

Fleur shrugged. "She became a great actress. It was what she wanted most."

Hermione could understand putting one's career first, but she couldn't imagine living like this forever. "Didn't the deal break because your grandmother took a Mate?"

Fleur looked puzzled for a moment, then her expression turned solemn. "I zink-think... that Dany was just too far gone."

"Oh." Well that was delightfully ominous.

* * *

Hermione woke up as early as possible to get ready. Pulling her Auror's robe from its spot behind her door, she recast all the usual spells on it.

No Wrinkle, Waterproof, Map-Tracking, and an added tailoring charm that would tighten and shorten the sleeves and hem as needed. She wore the robes and could manage, but most of her running, dueling, and other experience had been in her Muggle clothing.

Her hair was tucked in a bun and she rubbed clear balm on her lips and rubbed moisturizing on her skin. She preferred to do such after bathing, but this morning she would be getting attention.

After a fellow Auror comes back from the hospital, the others would generally buy them lunch and the first round at the pub The Crimson Corner. It was much better when it was a Friday, but some of her friends always showed up.

Gaining confidence from her put-together appearance the way she preferred it to be, Hermione banished all thoughts about the Other Issue and head out the door to get to work.

The first strange occurrence happened before she even got to the second level, and that was she didn't have to struggle up the line to the elevator. People kept moving just enough so she could get by with a smile she hadn't seen since shortly after the war.

Not by the other battle-torn members, they had stares of an entirely different sort, the thousand-mile sort.

It was more the 'I recognize you and that's exciting' quick smile. She hadn't been in the papers for any reason recently that she knew of, so she nodded back and got on the elevator with several other co-workers.

"I haven't seen you for a bit, Ms. Granger," a young bloke with a huge briefcase said politely to her. He was just starting in the Transportation department when she last visited the level, she remembered him because he was subtly copying Percy's fusty style.

"The risky life of an Auror." She smiled at him.

"If anyone can handle it, you can," he said as the doors opened to the second level.

Hermione nodded at him as she stepped out of the lift, preparing herself for a day of internal turmoil. The offices were casually chaotic as always, Aurors grudgingly filling out paperwork and discussing current or future cases with each other.

She didn't see Harry, but others greeted her with small hand waves and the occasional double-take. She hoped they were just surprised to see her again so quickly, the 'recuperation time' of the Hogwarts heroes were twice that of a longer-standing Auror. Not by choice, damn Malfoy.

Her desk was nearly bare since she never left it cluttered before leaving for an assignment. There was a new thin sheath of papers on it, a case with a name she didn't recognize.

Turning over the first page, her eyebrow climbing high as she read over the _issue_. Rubbing her forehead and rolling her eyes, she took out a fresh sheet of parchment and began to write down the procedures needed for this.

 _Find out when Arthur is available to speak privately._

 _Ask if and how he got his hands on a helicopter._

 _Check on his progress._

 _Hide all evidence of wrongdoing._

Hermione snorted to herself, Vanishing the list and rubbing the bridge of her nose. It wasn't an interesting case exactly, but it wasn't a bad idea to have her handle it. The question was, was Malfoy mocking her with this or subtly allowing leniency?

He had to know she wouldn't fine the man that she admired so much. Maybe it was a trap? No, she had already blatantly offered to let him fire her if that's what he wanted. Malfoy was confusing.

"Good to see you, Hermione."

Another well-wisher passed by and she lifted a hand in acknowledgment. This was followed by another Auror, Turnwald, stopped and sat at the edge of her desk. "You know, I've been meaning to tell you that your map saved my life. It was really a brilliant idea."

"Thank you." Hermione watched him stand up and go, utterly bemused. She had modified a Tracking Spell to connect to the maps all along the walls to the west. The Auror did have to agree to it and recast it every three days, and gave the password to locate him or her to only those their partner and other trusted individuals.

Hermione had added in that last modification since Baddock became Head Auror. Not one person he supervised had given their password to him, but Harry had every single one.

That tactic had failed completely when Malfoy ignored it and made it mandatory to pass the information to the Head of the department. Since then she took to working on making each individual's password voice-sensitive as well as password protected.

Either way she had made those modifications well over a year ago, and Turnwald was not a new Auror.

As the fifth person stopped by her desk to admire her handling of a previous case or comment they liked partnering with her last time, she figured out what was so familiar about their deference.

Harry bloody Potter. That's how they treated Harry, the casual compliments and going out of their way to chat with him. He must have put them up to it after the conflict with Malfoy to make her feel better.

She smiled the rest of the day, enjoying the conversation and promises to be at The Crimson Corner to buy her a round.

Hermione stopped at her flat between work and going out to the pub, promising herself she would catch Arthur at work if she could. After last time at the Burrow… her skin flushed hotter than the water pounding down could account for. No, no bad Hermione!

She turned the knobs the opposite way, holding in a whimper at the icy blast of water. It certainly cooled off the ardour brought on by memories though. Besides, she had a nagging feeling her control now was not what it was then.

Wrapping a huge towel around herself, she cast several Warming Charms throughout the house as she walked to the bedroom. Wandless too, before she could catch herself.

 _Knock knock!_

Checking her protective charms and detecting nothing amiss except it wasn't a previous visitor, she walked to the front door and called, "Who is it?"

"Blaise Zabini."

Shutting her eyes tight for a second, she ran her fingers through her hair and it was springy soft and dry by the time her hand dropped. Her towel disappeared and a light gray robes covered her from wrist to ankle in soft lines, several pleats running from hips to hem.

She opened the door with a raised eyebrow. "What are you doing here?"

"I thought you were a fan of being surprised?" He flashed a white grin at her, contrasting nicely with his dark skin.

Hermione took a step back. "Come in. I see you've spoken to Malfoy." Honestly, she hadn't feared the former Slytherins in years, if she truly ever had. Perhaps it came from being confident she knew more spells than them then, but she knew it was now.

She was a damn good Auror, and they seemed to spend a lot of time being wealthy and indolent. Most of them.

"Not so much _spoke to_ as _listened to_ with a side of _nodding and smiling_." Blaise took a cursory glance at her flat before turning his attention back to her.

"Tea?" The words courteously, traitorously, left her mouth before she could stop it. Curse her ingrained habits.

"Thank you, Granger." His smile made the the corner of his eyes crinkle. His charming demeanor was suspicious at best.

Hermione busied herself putting a kettle on and checking for-no, she would not make a full tray to encourage an extension of the visit. She knew for certain that she did not know Blaise very well at all, and refused to let her mind pick out some obscure trait he might have that she found appealing.

She could control this.

He took a seat at her kitchen, occasionally looking her way as she whisked the kettle off right before boiling point and prepared the tea. "He finds you very arousing, you know."

She almost dropped a delicate cup. Clearing her throat, she set it down gently. "Arouses his ire, because…?"

"I haven't seen him like this since Potter."

"Again, do you mean…" She set the small tray down on the table, raising an eyebrow at him. Malfoy certainly had never given her mooney eyes or given any indication he could stand her. She'd believe it about Harry before thinking Malfoy wanted anything more than to 'put her in her place' with the rest of the Muggleborn filth.

Not that, she would admit, he had made any slurs during his time in the Ministry, but nobody could accuse Malfoy of being bad at politics.

Blaise waved a hand, a long-fingered hand with trim nails. "Draco wants to struggle to get what he wants. It comes from years of being handed anything he wanted. Being rejected gives him the best hate-wanks, I bet."

Hermione pulled a face, the imagery of _that_ making her bothered on several levels. She poured his tea for him, pursing her lips in a manner reminiscent of McGonagall. "Not to put too fine a point on it, but once again, _why are you here_?"

Blaise added a dollop of milk and two sugars as he smiled harmlessly at her. "So impatient. I've come to offer my services."

Once again she couldn't control the way her body betrayed her, gaze tracing over his upper body before snapping up to his eyes. "I," she cleared her throat, "I have no need for your...services."

His smile slowly widened, a glimpse of his straight teeth and just the tip of his tongue as he basked in that look. Smarmy git. "I meant assistance in the situation you find yourself in."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Hermione took a drink of her plain tea, though she preferred it with a spot of milk as well.

Blaise made a small 'mm' in the back of his throat, eyes never leaving hers. "Just because nobody around is well-read doesn't mean that I haven't figured you out."

She chose to say nothing this time, sipping the strong liquid and hoped he was bluffing. Perhaps he'd merely think she was a pervy witch who enjoyed public shows, which was marginally better than the alternative.

"You've been Veela-Struck."

The blunt statement crashed that theory down into jagged bits of guilt and unease. She shifted in her chair, shrugging nonchalantly. "Luckily no, my latest assignment did not have any adverse effects."

"I agree," he said as his expression brightened. "Not adverse at all. What you could accomplish right now is monumental. And I want in."

"I don't know what you're talking about," she said stubbornly. Merlin, if this got out...it would make her previous leaves look like a blink of an eye.

"Granger." Blaise leaned forward, his handsome face open and earnest, which helped nothing. "Theo did not tell Draco why he sent him that Owl for you. But I know that look of dazed lust, I've seen it sit across the table from me on half a dozen faces."

Her brow wrinkled as she stared at him, thrown off by the information that didn't fit with all the other pieces.

Blaise leaned back slightly, a tinge of amused exasperation touching his mouth. "My mum? Not to incriminate anyone, but there are correlations there that are easy to notice if you know what to look for."

"Not to incriminate anyone, but I don't know what you're talking about." As stubborn as she wanted to be though, her bluff was not working at all. She could see it in his face.

"My point is," Blaise ignored that entirely, "I waited until you were back at the Ministry before approaching you. I thought it might lend weight to my argument when you see the difference in how people treat you. Not the pervy part, but the part where your unfortunate heritage is finally overcome."

Hermione ran the tip of her tongue along the front of her teeth, making an irritated sucking sound. Seriously? This was all just to insult her? She must have lost any semblance of sanity to sit here and listen to him.

He raised one hand, chuckling softly. "Hear me out, lioness. You do have several disadvantages being young, female, and Muggleborn. This new attribute of yours finally balances out all those negative preconceptions."

"Even if any of whatever you're talking about is true, I prefer to gain prominence on my own merit," Hermione said firmly. Perhaps it did bother her that Malfoy had a leg up even in a Shacklebolt-ran Ministry, but he was just one man. Many considerations had to be taken into account with those stuffy, old-fashioned wizards that still had a say.

"And you never will so long as you're blocked by the blinders of traditional values. Come on Granger, don't you want to show all those Muggleborns just entering wizarding society that there is no limit to what they can accomplish? You can make it so there is no limit."

Hermione had to take a breath, finally understanding exactly how seductive _cunning_ and _ambition_ sounded when presented properly. Seductive might be the wrong word though. _No, it wasn't._ "Zabini, why are you telling me this?"

She hadn't the foggiest clue what he got out of it yet, but had a feeling it would stretch her ethics to even hear it. He didn't seem the type to do anything for nothing. "Would I be able to get away with requesting a favor later?"

" _No_."

"I didn't think so. What about that I highly resent the backwards officials who raked every Pureblood over the coals after they drew up Wanted posters for the very people they turned around and gave medals to?" Though his tone remained light and pleasant, his eyes darkened in avarice.

"Quite a few of those officials were removed when Kingsley became Minister." At least, that's what she had reassured herself with for the past few years.

"Sometimes I wonder why you became an Auror instead of taking legislation in your own hands. Seeing your denial now puts it into perspective. "

Hermione scowled, the heat of anger rushing under her skin like Fiendfyre. The very air turned fraught with tension, and he seemed discomfited for the first time.

"Now Granger," he lifted a hand, pointing to a ring she hadn't given much attention to before. It was white-gold and the large stone set in the middle was the deep blue of the ocean. If she looked very close, she swore she could see the crash of waves…

He lowered his hand to out of her sight. "While I don't want to incur your wrath either way, I'm not going to become a befuddled simpleton around you. Isn't that a point in my favor? I'll tell you when you're being unreasonable, and I think you may need that right now."

She hated that he was right about that, at the very least. She was slipping off the rails and hadn't been able to bring herself to confide in her own friends. It was the embarrassing nature of the… issue. It would be helpful to have a rational mind around. "How do I know you wouldn't take advantage while I'm…fixing the problem?"

"I promise, my fondest wish is to see all their endeavors fail. You can call it revenge, but I call it justice." Curling his fingers just under his chin, he quirked an eyebrow. "Help me bring my Umbridges to their centaur herd."

She watched him for as long as he watched her, a different sort of natural heat pooling in her stomach. Was it wrong to be this turned on? Most likely.

"I'll think about it. I do have to get ready for an outing tonight, so…"

"Can't wait to hear from you." Blaise stood up, one hand twitching his robes slightly. He watched where her eyes went and gave her that eye-crinkling smile again. "Have a good night."

Mmph. She walked him to her front door, not taking note of his arse at all on the way. She had plenty of other problems to consider without a smooth-talking, ethically-flexible bloke insinuating himself into her life. She would not think about his services, blatant or hidden, while she was having a good time with her colleagues.

An entirely different phrase kept running around Hermione's mind as she stood in front of the fireplace with a handful of Floo powder. _...just too far gone..._

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

D: My poor neglected readers! Thank you to all the reviewers and especially the last one for reminding me that I need to have priorities! Priority being that this strange sexy romp continue on its path for the enjoyment of all XD

Edit: Just reached 200 Followers, what! You lot are fantastic!

HMJ


	11. Chapter 11 - Malfoy

Hermione wasn't sure who would be in attendance tonight. Given the behavior today, she could expect many of the Aurors at least stopping in and having a drink.

The Crimson Corner was not a small place, but the areas were sectioned off that it felt cozy. Not to mention the lighting was dim at best, lending itself to camaraderie and, in the Grey Corner, cigar smoking.

The different areas had nicknames ending with, of course, corner. Grey for smoking, and the main bar area was called the Silver Corner, though it wasn't a corner and the only silver was in the threads along the black marble bartop.

The Hit Wizards usually congregated in the Black Corner.

She paused outside the narrow lacquer red door, a brisk wind stirring about the bottom of the soft grey robe she decided on. She had been at enough welcome back night to know the reception she would get, one prolonged cheer and whoever got a drink in her hand the fastest won bragging rights for the night. It was a strange tradition that always resulted in spilled drinks.

That was part of the reason she chose the robe, it was soft, comfortable, and no simple Cleaning spell she had found could completely erase the smell of the various liquors. A complex one, yes, but she'd have to strip for that.

That was definitely not going to happen tonight, at any point.

Finally pushing opening the door and stepping inside the dom tavern, Hermione heard a rousing chorus of cheers go up and the pressure of incantations around. Before she could rightfully spot which Aurors were waiting for her at the bar, a dozen drinks were zooming her way.

Without thinking she froze them mid-air before they could crowd in to bump at her hands. A frissure of alarm settled under her skin as she realized what she did in front of anyone. But she smiled and slid her wand from her sleeve before raising a wand, waving at them.

She saw Neville and Turnwald, Proudfoot and Barnes, also a number of others that had chatted with her today. She didn't see the distinct messy hair, he must still be on assignment. He hadn't answered her note yet either, but she knew it got busy when working a case.

Making a show of reaching for one glass then pausing, her co-workers yelled demands and advice on which to pick.

Hermione ended up choosing a tall and elegant glass of possibly champagne with a single strawberry in it. As she lifted it, she saw the top was cut to reveal the white flesh inside shaped like a flower.

A series of groans sounded as the drinks zoomed themselves back to their owners, this time on their power and not hers.

"Who sent the drink?" came the buzz as everyone looked at their returned drink.

Hermione walked up to the bar, casting a smile at Neville and sliding in the seat next to him. At least she wasn't feeling pulled toward him right now. "Maybe an Unspeakable showed up." she joked. It was the running jest that whenever something strange around the Crimson Corner happened, it must have been an Unspeakable.

"It was me." The low, smug voice cut through the chatter and nearly everyone turned to look around the far left of the bar to where Malfoy sat at a small table. He lifted a drink that was identical to hers, then turned around and continued ignoring them.

What was Malfoy doing here?

She wasn't the only one surprised or curious, lowered voices spoke the very same questions to each other. She heard some of the hypothesis and smiled sadly. She hadn't a clue why either, but figured it did not include spying on everyone.

Many of the Aurors rolled their eyes and continued their quiet conversations, several including her. All in all it was going well. Neville hadn't noticed when she wandlessly lifted the back of his shirt, relieved to see a lack of silver marks. In theory she might've just known by how he acted, but better safe than sorry.

"What's your secret?" Neville asked as he drank down his third Firewhiskey. Despite the myriad of offerings they had at a pub, he seemed fond of the drink. He had once told her that his grandmother kept a bottle of firewhiskey in the spirits' cabinet for when she had anything worth celebrating over.

Even though Neville hadn't made a big deal of it, Hermione thought he did care, very much so. She thought perhaps that why he didn't leave the job and go to Hogwarts as early as he originally planned. For whatever other issues came up, this batch of Aurors were tight knit.

"Secret?" Hermione was on her third Blushing Bride, which is what the bartender said that drink was. Luckily nobody else had overheard.

Neville nodded in the solemn way only the passably inebriated could. "Malfoy barely waited any time at all before putting you back on active duty. He made me do a psychological evaluation last time."

Hermione winced, she remembered that. Harry received the same treatment every time he ended up injured, and last time so had she. A Healer for the body and the mind had to send letters in, it was humiliating.

None of the other Aurors had to do it every single time except certain ones from the Battle of Hogwarts.

"Perhaps he's been distracted by his personal life." She patted his shoulder, hoping he'd drop it. She certainly wasn't telling him the truth. Not that Malfoy's decision made sense to her anyway, she was shocked he didn't make it twice as long after what she did.

"What personal life?" He took another long drink. "He's always at the office, the night Aurors say he doesn't leave til' dark."

Hermione watched the last of the amber liquid disappeared down his throat.

Neville was not a drinker. Even during training when he struggled hard to learn everything and pass all the exams, he barely touched the stuff.

"Is everything all right?" She leaned closer to whisper, sliding her hand off his shoulder. Just in case.

Neville looked at her blurrily, the lines of his face set in desolate lines. "Hannah called me…"

"Yes?"

"She...she called her friend."

Ahh, matters of the heart. Suddenly it all made sense. "I thought you two have went on dates?" she asked carefully.

"I thought so too, but now I'm a friend, Hermione? I've dropped plenty of hints. I stop by her work and compliment her when she passes me a free drink. We've went out to tea…" He held up three fingers. "four times."

"All right, let's have a round of water over here." She caught the bartender's attention and asked for two waters. She was thinking about asking for a Sober-Up potion too, but those were ridiculously expensive at most bars.

Neville look at his water when it appeared in front of him sadly.

"Are you sure she meant 'just a friend'? She flirts with you, I've seen it. Maybe she meant she's lucky to have a boyfriend that is also a friend." Hermione had certainly said that enough times about Ron before realizing only one of those was what she wanted. She doubted, though, that Hannah thought of Neville that way.

"I thought that too, but then I realized we've never held hands. Or kissed." He pinkened as he took a hasty quaff of water, coughing a bit after as if he forgot it was water. "Not on the lips." He wheezed, hitting just below his collarbone.

Hermione thought while he got the bit of water out of his throat. At least she felt slightly less guilty when she had flirted with him herself… Hmm. It was funny, the feeling she had gotten while touching and complimenting him was different than the other blokes that...well, never mind that.

Neville hadn't touched her back or said much, like he needed to be convinced he was even worth finding attractive. It made her wonder if he was putting forth all this 'effort' with Hannah and still somehow waiting for her to make the first move.

"Neville," Hermione said firmly, like she had when going over Potions, "have you ever kissed her on the cheek or tried to kiss her on the lips?"

"No." Neville frowned. "I wouldn't do that."

Hermione rubbed one temple, taking a deep breath. What was with all the boys in her year? Ginny literally had to maul Harry the first time to get the point across she liked him back, and Ron and her had been about to _die_ pretty much. But even then they had been uncertain boys in uncertain times.

On the other hand, Neville's gram hadn't exactly passed on her approval to her grandson until he was a full-grown wizard. Some of his offhand comments had been worrisome, to say the least.

"Have you told you that you wanted to date her? Not just invited her out for tea?"

"I tell her she's very pretty."

"So no. Do you tell her she's pretty after a few drinks?"

His sheepish expression answered that immediately. This was like old times from Hogwarts, and she settled into her usual confident and strident tone. "You have to be blunt. If you're not comfortable declaring it with a kiss, which I understand, tell her how you feel. Kiss her hand, send her a simple courting gift. Take her out to dinner, for Godric's sake."

Neville was nodding slowly, then more firmly. "You're right."

 _I know._ She had all the good romantic advice, goodness knows she certainly had counseled the boys in her life enough times. She was like a fantastic Baker allergic to cake. "You should go tonight."

"But…" he looked uncertainly at her.

"I have plenty of company tonight. Go."

As he stood up she moved her fingers; there was no proper Sobering charm but one could convert most forms of alcohol to plain water, and she did. Neville sat up straighter, eyes widening a bit before quickly saying, "Thanks," then rushing off to the loo.

As he went she sent just a faint curl of her acquired energy into him, not enough to cause more than a rapid heartbeat and mellow feeling of desire. Just to help him along a little.

Hermione smiled and turning around to the bar, looking at her unfinished drink and water. Sighing deeply, she drank down the water and toyed with the idea of casting the same on herself. Before she decide either way, a loud voice interrupted her.

"Where are all my rounds?"

As if in slow motion, her head turned to see Malfoy standing up on the small table beside the group of chatting Aurors. Or previously chatting Aurors, the conversation died and the conversations from the other areas drifted over in an unintelligible babble.

"I won, she chose my drink. Don't I get a crown at least?"

Several of the Aurors were chuckling, Ashworth in particular giggled loudly.

Hermione pushed off the stool and walked quickly to the table, looking all the way up at Malfoy. He cast a superior look down at her, one eyebrow raised. His pale cheeks had just a hint of pink, how many drinks did he have? "Malfoy, stop."

He crossed his arms and tilted his head back, still looking down at her. "You can't buy me a drink, this is your welcome back. Who's going to buy me a drink?" He moved his foot precariously near the edge and jerked as if about to fall.

"OH!" She grabbed out as if she might've caught him, but he righted himself quickly with a flail. "What are you doing?" She hissed, heart thumping. He had never once shown up at any gathering that she could remember.

From behind her one of the serving witches balanced a tray with three drinks on it. At least two were scotch, and one was a Blast-Ended Spirit given the flames licking the sides of the glass. "Offerings for the King," she said somewhat dryly.

Hermione shot a narrow look over her shoulder, two Aurors giving her thumbs up. She shook her head at them fiercely, and they looked up and around innocently. Getting Malfoy even more inebriated was mostly certainly not funny.

Malfoy, however, had other thoughts. He jumped down to the ground easily, picking up both the small glasses in each hand. Downing one and then the other, he set them down with a smack of his lips and lifted the larger drink.

"Oh no," she muttered.

He literally quaffed the entirety and she ducked when a fireball blew out to the immense cheers of the other Aurors. Malfoy smirked at her as he walked past her to the bar, like he just won the acceptance of everyone.

Which he hadn't. He really hadn't, and she watched as her co-workers kept calling the bartender to bring another type of this drink or that drink for him.

This had disaster scrawled all over it.

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

No, I think everything will be just fine, don't you? XD

*scoots plottings behind her back*

Thanks for reviewing and/just reading, and letting me share all this fun with you!

HMJ


	12. Chapter 12 - Malfoy

The Green Fairy.

Forbidden Fling.

Icy Paradise.

 _The Dragon Slayer._

It was both simple and underhanded. About five Aurors would take the drink with Malfoy, and subtly melt back for another similar sized group to come in to buy a round for themselves and him.

That was technically his business though, and Hermione tried to chat with Ashworth as if it wasn't happening. She did keep glancing over at the loud chatter and cheers. The last drink was a boiling forest green liquid that four Aurors and Malfoy downed in one fell swoop. She'd only had The Dragon Slayer once, and it was nearly as potent as getting hit by one of their tails, so said Harry.

"He'll be fine, you know," Ashworth said drolly.

Hermione stopped craning her neck and looked back. "Hmm?"

She nodded toward the cheering group. "Malfoy. It's not as if none of us have gotten pissed before." She was a tall and powerful Auror, her voice was low and full of cynicism.

"Right." She looked over at the bar again. Auror Clarke was watching everything with a smirk while sipping on his water. His look made her uneasy, it wasn't malevolent, but it was smug. None of them looked as if they were going to drag Malfoy outside and take any of their work frustrations out of him, she supposed that would have to be enough.

"You're supposed to be having fun tonight, luv. One of the Hit Wizards has been eyeing you all night, he's fit to boot."

"I'm really not in the mood to date." Merlin, what an understatement.

"Who said anything about seeing him tomorrow?" Ashworth winked and stood up. "Looks like I'm up in the queue." She walked over to the bar, joining in the new group that ordered five The Dark Liqueurs, which was pitch black and bloody terrifying on top of all the previous drinks.

Unable to stand seeing Malfoy's laughing, thoroughly foxed face, she walked over to Clarke. "Can you take Malfoy home please?" He was the Apparater for the night, hence why he wasn't drinking.

"I'm a bit booked up tonight." Clarke replied sardonically, dark eyes travelling to the drunk in question.

Hermione frowned and crossed her arms. She could...could make him, but that wasn't right. It wasn't, no matter how sure she was that everyone would be just fine leaving their boss passed out on the bar floor. "Come on, nobody else is leaving this early."

His gaze traveled back to her, one eyebrow quirking. "If he wants to leave, I'll take him. Happy?"

"Yes." Hermione decided a grudging ride home was better than nothing, and she edged her way into the small crowd. The mingled scent of liquor and fruit juices was high in the air, a sulfur tinge lingering after the last round. Her nose wrinkled.

"Malfoy. Malfoy!" She got in close enough to touch his elbow.

He looked at her, one eye close and the other squinting. "You can't buy me a drink, Granger. Or are you looking for a drink?" He was pronunciating so carefully and failing that she was shocked he could speak and stand at the same time.

"It's time to go home."

"What? It's not even late. And I'm having a great time."

Hermione leaned closer, already feeling a trickle of sweat run down her spine at all the bodies so close to her. "You've had too much to drink." She spoke firmly and simply.

Malfoy pulled away his arm from her touch, hugely affronted and disbelieving. "And I think you haven't had enough! Have one with me! You...you need to get your priorities straight, have a bit of fun." He was focusing so hard on rehashing their previous conversation that he was openly swaying now.

"Let him have some fun, Hermione!" Turnwald grinned at her, having participated in at least three of the rounds and that was the only reason she didn't snap at him. He wouldn't remember it in the morning anyway. "We're just about to play Chief Warlock!"

"I want to play that." Malfoy spoke up immediately.

"It's a complicated game." Not to mention one that would leave everyone a mess.

"How about Spoon Quidditch?"

"If you trust anyone here with a wand," she said archly. Transfiguration and alcohol was the second most common reason for ending up in the Spell Damage wing at St. Mungo's.

"How about Ten Fingers?" One Auror called, and a chorus of agreement sounded. Many showed their hands with fingers outspread to indicate they were ready.

Hermione reluctantly sat at the small tables with everyone. There were eleven participants, so four small tables were taken with four at each, save for the last with three. She had tried to take a seat with Malfoy just in case, but he was diagonal from her and waiting.

A tray of a ridiculous amounts of Firewhiskeys waited. It was not a complicated game, but someone was going to be passed out at the end of the night, if not several. She had never seen the game played with this many people, and given the pleased smiles sent Malfoy's way, there was a good reason.

"Hermione, you're the witch of the night! You start," Turnwald said as if he were sure this was a boon.

Hermione looked down at her hands with each fingers spread and raised and took a deep breath before speaking. "Never have I ever worn men's dress robes."

A general groan came up as the nine wizards lowered a finger, and Ashworth winked at her. One of the men grumbled something about _boring_ and she rolled her eyes.

"Sir, you're the next person of honor tonight." Hawke shot a glance at Malfoy with a harmless smile. Considering he was quite verbal about his dislike of Malfoy, she knew it was about as genuine as a Slytherin offering candy.

Malfoy looked upward as he thought.

Hermione had to admit that when he wasn't quite so determined to look stoic or superior, he was handsome. His features had filled out and he wasn't so much pointy as defined. High cheekbones, a jawline that sliced like a _Diffindo._

She closed her eyes for a moment and shook her head, fortifying herself. Malfoy was an attractive man, but no need to fall headlong into...uhm, what was she thinking?

She opened her eyes to see Malfoy looking right at her.

"Never have I ever," Malfoy's gaze flitted over her slowly, "shagged in the office."

The others definitely appreciated that, some hoots and much laughter as three of the wizards lowered a finger. While they were being ribbed Hermione looked away from his penetrating gaze. This was absolutely not the time to start exuding whatever it was that heated her up so wonderfully.

Terribly, she meant terribly.

The next ones followed the tone that many _Ten Fingers_ games did, just like Malfoy.

"Never have I ever...wanked to my own mirror image."

Two wizards coughed and lowered a finger, as well as Ashworth. Malfoy did not. Not that Hermione cared, but she saw the others peeking at him.

"Never have I ever spent more than ten minutes getting ready for anything."

There were some shouts of 'clearly!' and most everyone else lowered a finger, including Hermione. She didn't do it often, but it happened.

"Never have I ever paid for a shag."

Nobody else lowered their fingers, so the speaker had to. He did so with a grumble.

The next was more clever. "Never have I ever owned a house elf."

Bloody four Aurors lowered a finger, including Malfoy, and Hermione scowled to herself.

"...dated more than one person at one time."

Two wizards did; Malfoy did not.

"...shagged two people in the same day."

One wizard did; Malfoy did not.

"...called out my own name during a climax." Ashworth guessed that one. She did not seem pleased at having to lower her finger when nobody else did.

"...got off in my parent's bed."

Six wizards lowered their finger, Malfoy did not.

Sweet Merlin, what sort of person did they think Malfoy was?

Hawke had lowered eight fingers and he was on the receiving end of plenty of teasing 'slag' comments and they were now paying attention to both him and Malfoy alternatively.

Hawke was up next, and he straightened up and spoke clearly. "Never have I ever been arrested."

Two other Aurors plus Malfoy lowered a finger. He was the only one who wasn't a wearing somewhat sheepish smile. He also did not look chagrined or caught out.

It was Hermione's turn again. "Never have I ever worn mismatched socks."

There was some good-natured groaning at the tepid suggestion, but Ashworth and a wizard lowered a finger.

"I love mismatching socks!" Ashworth responded to someone teasingly poking at the skirt of her robe. They did not even pretend to lift it though, a good thing. The witch had a twitchy wand hand.

Malfoy hummed as he thought, just a small sound in the back of his throat. "Never have I ever had a nosh off."

Every other participant except Hermione lowered a finger, but all stared at Malfoy.

"Never?" One Auror gaped, before he was nudged by another. But he wasn't the only one inebriated enough to speak up.

Turnwald, who had four fingers down, leaned over to say lowly. "Wait wait wait, I must know, was that _your_ choice?"

Malfoy raised an eyebrow at him, the corner of his mouth tilting up in either condescension or amusement. "Not all witches are comfortable with it."

Turnwald leaned back as if Malfoy just announced that he had been beaten and starved as a child. Appalled and full of pity. There were some ribald comments certainly, and one very brave or stupid Auror suggested Ashworthe put him out of his misery. The Auror in question went down with a point-blank Stinging Hex in the face and got laughed at.

It was the strangest thing; the game resumed, minus one player, and nobody was gunning for Malfoy anymore. It was as if they suddenly didn't want to add to his heap of troubles, which Hermione would have found a lot more annoying if she weren't so distracted.

She was definitely distracted. Who wouldn't be? A clean heat had taken place under her skin as she watched his hand movements, the bare skin that disappeared under the sleeves of his dark robes. The way his mouth moved when he spoke or settled back into neutral lines. How would she take him if _she_ wanted to introduce him to the wonders of lips and tongue and the edge of teeth?

On a bed, sprawled out? Quick and dirty against a wall? Sit him in a chair like these and-

Malfoy's darkened silver eyes slid toward her, intense and utterly breath-quickening. His gaze coursed down to her lips and neck and lower, the heat of it nearly tangible to her.

Hermione turned her head away and looked at an empty table, willing her cheeks to stop burning. It wasn't with embarrassment either. For precious moments she had forgotten that she was, simply put, emitting desire all over the place if she wasn't careful.

For a second she didn't _want_ to be careful with him, she wanted to pull him away and have him groaning her name with fingers tangled in her hair. And he'd want it too, he'd go with her, she could taste the heat and salt of his skin already.

 _No_ , no, he was pissed as a skunk, it was amazing he could even stay balanced on the stool. Hermione dragged her attention back to the game. Hawke had finally lowered all ten fingers and had to take drinks instead.

"Taking a penalty shot.," Hermione announced as she stood up. Anyone who left in the middle of the game had to take one, so she grabbed the glass on the way and drained it on the way to the toilet.

She splashed cold water on her face once she was standing in the tastefully decorated room, reminiscent of a powder room. Large sinks, triple spouts at each, soft and subtle scents wafting from the silky soap.

The water got in her hair and dripped down her neck, but she didn't magically dry it even though she hadn't drank much, all be told. The door opened and she cast a wary glance behind her.

It was just Ashworthe, fixing her hair and reapplying a color to her lips. "Clarke's taking me soon. Are you going to stick around for a bit?"

"No, I don't think so." Hermione did not think it was a good idea, and Malfoy clearly wasn't going to be the first to catch an Apparate home. Part of the reason there had to be a sober person around was The Crimson Corner did not have a Floo. Security reasons partially, but it did leave one stumbling out in the streets to find another fireplace if they didn't come on the weekend.

Or the Knight Bus, which Hermione could say from experience, the Vomit Bucket on weekends. The memory still left her horrified.

She walked out with Ashworthe, endured a 'witches do go in pairs' joke, and reminded the other female Auror to not hex anyone else that night lest they get kicked out. Apparently they had given up the game and were boasting about some of the stories that led up to the lowered finger. Hawke was slurring out a story about a past relationship with two witches and, to her surprise, it was not shady. Unusual, but not full of lies and adultery.

Malfoy was slumped over the back of his chair, breathing deeply.

Shaking her head, she snagged Clarke when he reappeared alone. "Can you bump Malfoy up the line?"

He raised one yellow blonde eyebrow as he looked over their boss. "No, he's not on my list for the night."

"What do you mean?" She was afraid she knew though.

"I only take people home who asked. I have better things to do than cart around wizards that didn't think ahead." He spoke rather coldly as he watched the unconscious wizard.

Hermione ran her fingers through her hair. Oh, she'd seen the designated Apparater cut someone off before, but Malfoy wasn't getting himself home. He'd get into trouble out there, of that she was sure. It was like a sixth sense, when one of her boys was about to end up in a _situation_. He wasn't Harry or Ron, but she could just feel it.

"I've seen you make exemptions."

"I have." He pointed at Malfoy. "I won't. Did you know I missed my daughter's second birthday because he wouldn't let me switch assignments?"

And that was the moment she knew there would be no use in bothering him anymore about it. "Have a good night."

He grinned at her with good humour again. "If you need a ride, I'll be around."

She watched him walk jauntily away, probably thrilled at the idea his bit of a boss might end up shoved outside on the walk when the pub closed. It was hard to blame him for that.

Nor was Malfoy her responsibility either, he'd messed with her plenty once he was in a position to do so. Yet she found herself shaking his shoulder. "Malfoy? Malfoy, wake up."

His head lifted as he peered at her, eyes bloodshot. "I'll have pancakes."

"No, I...yes, all right. Let's get you pancakes."

His head tilted back down, angled awkwardly against his shoulder. "No, bring it."

"I'm afraid you will have to go to the pancakes." Hermione wasn't quite as confident of her transporting skills even though she was openly doing wandless magic. Drinking alcohol did impair complicated spells, and magical alcohol was no different.

She sighed and sent a mild Featherlight charm before wrapping her arm under both of his and lifting him to his feet.

"I don't want to go shopping." He complained, utterly and thoroughly boxed. He did hold his own lessened weight, stumbling along next to her. Nobody was really paying attention to them, but of course they noticed. Probably thought she was a real soft touch for helping their mean old boss get home to plot more mean things.

They'd be right on both counts, undoubtedly.

Once they were in the cold night air she hailed the Knight Bus, it should be have mostly sober passengers on a weeknight. Still letting Malfoy lean on her, she listened to the spiel told by a fresh out-of-school witch named Marjorie Rose.

Marjorie didn't quite have Shunpike's crackly voice or spotted face, but she had these enormous glasses and an utterly monotone voice. "Get any baggage?" she asked flatly.

"Just this, but he'll be going on with me." Hermione carefully went up the steps with him, dropping her payments in the bored girl's hand. "Do you think you can wait-" Of course the Knight Bus jerked into life, and by Merlin Hermione barely avoided braining herself on a chandelier as they stumbled into a seat.

Malfoy was squished half against her side, face jammed into her shoulder. He had an especially bony face, she decided.

"Stupid train," he muttered, not even trying to right himself. He did sit back when she pushed him off, opening his red eyes again. "Granger." he said seriously. There was hope after all. "You're supposed to be in your own compartment."

Or not.

Yet she only smoothed down his soft hair and let him lean against her when the vehicle took sharp turns and kept him from tilting forward when the brakes were slammed on. Not exactly how she expected to end the night. And since she didn't know where he lived…

Their stop was called and she got him off the Bus with little fuss. Nobody in her neighborhood was out and about at this time of night, which made her feel a little better. Usually if the boys were this drunk they all went to Grimmauld Place.

Once they were in her apartments she took a long look at him. It was perfectly within her realm of capability to do the same modified Sobering charm she had done on Neville earlier, but she wasn't as sober as she was earlier, and second, with the amount of alcohol he had had...let's just say he'd have to be standing in the tub.

But if he was trying to get drunk, she had long since learned to let a person do as they please. He flopped on her couch and stuck his arm over his forehead, watching her with hooded eyes. "You brought me home." His voice, while somewhat slurred, was sharp and aware.

Hermione paused, a good thing as she was just about to summon blankets and a pillow. "You're not that pissed, are you?"

A slow smile appeared, still keeping that intense stare on her. "Oh, I've had far too much to get home on my own without the risk of Splinching. But I'm not 'transported to childhood' pissed."

Hermione looked upward with a sigh. "I assumed you said all those things as an adult too." He was waited hand and foot by the slave labor in the Manor, wasn't he? She didn't a hundred-percent know the answer. "Why did you pretend?"

He shrugged and kicked off his boots. Of course he didn't answer. Instead he sat up and tugged his robe off over his head and slung it over the back of the couch.

He just wanted to see how everyone would treat him. He'd been the Head for a while, why now? Hermione bit her bottom lip. He was wearing a white linen shirt beneath that he only half unbuttoned as well as black trousers. She assumed he might follow the Pureblood adage of the robes were clothes and the cloaks outerwear and anything underneath was underclothes.

Deciding not to ask why the Muggle fashion, she asked politely, "Can I get you anything besides bedding? Tea or biscuits?" She pulled out her wand and summoned a stack of neatly folded blankets to set by his feet for when he was ready.

"Why don't you tell me something, Granger?" He nudged the blankets to the edge and patted the seat next to him.

Uneasy, given her current situation, she sat by the blankets. It was still quite close to him though. They'd both have to lean in a bit to meet in the middle, but it would be very easy.

"Do you get off on being a saint or a martyr?"

"Excuse me?" Hermione stared at him with mouth ajar. So much for those flighty fancies of how close they were. Why did all the former Slytherins get in her flat and start to insult her? She literally had done nothing but offer him a sofa and tea.

He lifted one hand with long fingers, slight callouses showing beneath the hydrated skin. "A saint will go overboard on being nice, and a martyr will go overboard and complain about it for the rest of their life. Which one are you? Is everyone going to hear about this tomorrow."

Hermione sat up straight, tilting her chin up. "If I didn't want to help you, I'd have left you on your arse at the pub and imagined you drowning in a pool of your own sick as I drifted off to sleep. I might still do the latter, except with lower expectations." She got verbose when mad as Ron liked to point out. What her rants lacked in volume it made up for in time.

Malfoy tilted his head, leaning back into the soft cushions. "You're an odd one, Granger."

"Because I'm not a self-righteous prick?" Indignation and heat buzzed in her blood, leaving whatever part of her that was Veela-struck frustrated because pragmatic her was not happy about being judged. "I _can_ be spiteful, Malfoy, I _choose_ not to be."

"I know." He lifted a hand, the knuckles on his index and middle finger brushing her cheek. "I know about Skeeter, remember? I had never been so turned on in my life. For a minute, anyway."

Hermione blinked. Oh, she remembered what happened after he burst in the compartment, but before that he had been…? She should have figured any hint of duplicity sent his robes raising. She really wished he wouldn't have said that anyway, imagining a teenage Malfoy with ear pressed against the door, getting hard as he listened to her voice.

Damnation, she was getting distracted again. He was right on her couch, one knee slightly raised as he lounged. He wasn't a hugely muscular bloke, but he was young and strong and clearly had a flat stomach. She loved the muscles just above the hipbones, and had a sinking feeling he'd have a delicious set.

He hissed softly as the heat she couldn't control brushed his skin. His pupils dilated as they stared at each other, the hand lingering near her cheek moved to the back of her neck with hypnotic slowness.

She followed the pressure to lean over him as their mouths met. It was neither angry nor gentle but all encompassing. His lips parted immediately for her to lick just inside his mouth, alternating between sucking on his lower lip and curling her tongue against his.

The sensual slide of their tongues rubbing together made her grip the white material under her palms, her knee sliding so she was almost on his lap. Her robes left an extra layer of cloth between them, a blessing in disguise as she was this close to grinding on him like a teenager.

Clearly he wouldn't mind, one hand threaded through her hair and the other gripping her hip firmly as he thrust his tongue in and out of her mouth.

Dizzy with need, she continued undoing the buttons, knuckles brushing his hot and firm skin all the way down. His stomach muscles jumped each time, both their breathing hot and heavy. Together they tasted like the heat of Firewhiskey and the sweet of champagne.

"Let me be your first."

Hermione's eyes popped open, a sliver of awkward confusion slicing through the hazy lust. He didn't think…

"You didn't lower your finger." He whispered against her ear as he angled his cheek against hers. "Hasn't anyone licked you before?"

Oh, oh! Oh thank Godric. Then she thought about what he was offering, and for a definitely-not-virgin she blushed. Perhaps she'd call it a flush, right, that was less undignified. "Not...a preference." It undoubtedly was silly, but only one wizard had tried to do it and she had been achingly young and self-conscious then and refused. Not to mention still bruised badly from the war.

Her other relationships, some hadn't lasted very long, and in others the act had simply not been offered. She hadn't considered it a great loss and gave it little thought until now.

"You won't remember your name after I'm done with you." Malfoy pulled back enough for her to see his smirk as he captured her mouth again. He was a great snog, the naughty way he stroked in her very much made her think of all the other ways he could be inside her, the addition of fantasizing about his tongue sending shivers through her.

Such an ego on him. But she desperately didn't want to remember her own name. It also felt desperately good to be touching someone who _wanted_ to touch her. She thought she was doing a banging job in keeping all the Veela-struck inside.

He pushed her robes up her thighs further, fingers stealing beneath and settling on the bare curve of her hips.

"Wait." Some last vestiges of her conscience managed to claw past the almost-decision she had made. "Wait, you've been drinking a lot." she whispered against his skin, closing her eyes to make herself do this.

"I'm perfectly aware of what I'm doing." Malfoy muttered, thumbs curving to bring her hips down firmly on his lap. Without the layer of robes in the way she could feel him very well through his trousers.

"Then you'll have no problem doing when sober?" Hermione did feel awkward talking like this when she was practically dying inside with the effort to not rock against him. But it was important too. If he had been a date or even someone she trusted...but he was neither of those things.

A look of irritation crossed Malfoy's features as he ran his tongue along his teeth. "Of course not."

The sharp disdain in his voice was like a sudden dunk in icy cold water.

"I don't even want to be here now," he whispered before kissing her again, greedily sucking on her lower lip.

It was like someone squeezed all the air out of her lungs, hurt and fear and anger filling her again as simple as air. Hurt at his words, fear of herself. Anger at...this whole mess? Him? The other Aurors? It would simpler to be angry at herself.

A crack rent the air like a firecracker.

Wrenching herself up and out of his lap, she pressed her fingers against her mouth. He looked practically debauched on the sofa, shirt open, mouth reddened and slick, arousal tightening the trousers deliciously.

"You're welcome to stay till morning," she said icily, turning on her heel to retreat to the kitchen where the sound came from. He said nothing, and that was a good thing because her gaze immediately landed on her kettle.

It was broken in half. Her accidental surge of magic broke part of the set her grandmother left her. She Reparo'd it in a hurry, but she remained standing there for a long time, touching the seamless line that was once shattered.

When she finally turned around to head to the bathroom, she noticed a package on the kitchen table. Small enough for an Owl to carry barely. Arrogantly, or perhaps carelessly, she pulled the lid off without doing a preliminary sweep.

Luck was on her side, and nothing attacked her. It was two cuts of Japanese cherry blossom branches with closed buds. As it was exposed, the petals gently undulated to become open flowers. It also had a small white card with garish bright green borders, the ink a blinking orange.

 _Pick you up at 6 tomorrow!_

Smiling for the first time that night it felt like, Hermione scanned the familiar signatures. But when she went to bed alone, she honestly missed the days where the answers seemed so much clearer because one side advocated for genocide.

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

Not to say that still didn't suck; 'Starving/Hunted vs. Genocide? Well, if those are my options…'

Yay update and stuff! Thank you for the reviews, and to answer one forlorn and lovely person, nobody is out of the picture yet, far from it. Faaaar from it ;D

Ten Fingers (Never Have I Ever) will bring up some crazy past stuff you had forgotten about if you've ever played it.

Oh, and I sincerely wish you all a great and wonderful Memorial Day weekend if that's a thing where you are and stuff! I'm working extra shifts cause nobody wants to come in, but look how I'm spending it on my breaks! That's gotta count for something. All for you ^.^.^.^.^

Ninja Edit: I MISSED the opportunity to celebrate in-fic that I had exactly 69 reviews! Bollocks! I'll make it up to you lot with something appropriately fun and decadent. I KNOW, Hermione was supposed to be doing that this time, but she's still got issues with the whole 'compelling/enchanting' thing and hasn't embraced it. C'mon Hermione, nothing wrong about loooove.

HMJ


	13. Chapter 13

_Hermione stared at the familiar counter before her. It was familiar, but not quite enough… A small stack of tokens on the corner closest to her clued her in._

 _She was in the Floating Carafe, and it looked so different but not because she was on the other side of the counter._

" _Harry?"_

 _Harry walked up to the ordering side, smiling in his normal and friendly way. "I'll have a 'Friends to Lovers' please."_

" _Right, right." Hermione mumbled, looking at the menu that she had forgotten to read, apparently. Choices covered every inch of the parchment, items like 'Tied and Flogged' and 'Soft and Helpless'._

 _Neville was right behind him, looking at the instruments she was supposed to use to make them coffee. Though she had no idea how. "I don't know what I want," he sighed. "Can you decide for me?"_

" _I don't think that's how it works." Hermione protested, clutching the menu and Harry had walked off without paying. Neville looked at her helplessly before getting rudely shoved out of the way._

" _I'll take a Furious and Hard. Now." Nott plunked down several sickles, certainly not enough to pay for a drink or for her to put up with his attitude. Malfoy stood behind him, staring up at the handwritten menu, but said nothing._

" _You two will have to wait, I haven't even figured out how to make Harry's drink!" Hermione shouted, still searching for how to make the first drink. Harry winked at her from his seat, grinning in a very not-just-a-friend way._

 _Horrified, she shooed Nott. "You're in the way, move."_

 _He did so immediately, glaring at her the whole time._

 _The twins stepped in their place, butting in front of Malfoy. Identical girls, though Fred waggled his eyebrows at her. Of course she knew which was which. "We want to share a drink."_

 _Hermione knew the rules. "You can't share the Bottomless option," she scolded._

" _But why?" Fred started._

" _We'll pay twice the money." George smirked._

 _Well, that did sound fair… "What drink do you want then?"_

 _Before they could respond, Malfoy stepped in between the two. "I know what I-"_

" _NO, Malfoy." Hermione pointed a finger at him. After the way he acted...acted when? She couldn't remember. He sulked at her, but definitely did not look discouraged. And suddenly most of them were talking at once, asking where their order was, when would it be ready. She turned and sunk down behind the counter, both hands over her ears._

 _Blaise filled her vision as he crouched in front of her. He gently drew her unresisting hands down, fake-sympathy on his face. "I can show you how to work back here. You want to learn, don't you?" He spoke over the hubbub behind her._

 _She nodded, pathetically grateful. "I have no idea what I'm doing. Help me."_

 _Blaise began to smile, thumbs rubbing the inside of her palms. It felt good, better than it should have by all rights…_

Hermione sat up in the relative darkness of her room, disoriented from sleep to waking so quickly. The adrenaline from her dream ran hotly through her, and she took a couple of deep breaths before noticing the shadow in the door.

"Draco?" she whispered.

It solidified into a man, the even more rumpled figure of Malfoy becoming clear. He reached up his fingers along his jawline, his silver eyes brighter in the gloom than they had any right to be. "I heard you...in your sleep."

Her cheeks flamed as if she were still a teenager.

He took a slow step forward. "You know, what I said last night…" His voice was still rough with sleep, but hesitant in a way she had never heard from him. His gaze dipped to her bare shoulder and calf that had escaped the blankets. "I'm sober now."

Slowly he reached the end of her bed and when she said nothing he placed both hands on the covers. Crawling forward, he came until he was just above her and their mouths met. Slotted together as natural as breathing, his weight lowered on her tentatively and wonderfully as his tongue traced her lower lip.

She parted her lips and tugged his body closer, only a thin sheet and their respective clothes between thigh. Her thigh settled between his and his fit between hers as their hips came together. He slid in and out of her mouth slow and filthy, making noises that he hadn't the night before while they kissed.

She wanted to tug at their clothes, to really feel his skin, but the way his thigh slid against her was so distracting. She hadn't ever been so aroused from fumbling as innocently as two third years getting carried away ever.

Sucking on his tongue and moaning against his mouth, she rocked her hips against his, partially to get more from him, and also to get him all worked up… His breath was already hitching, easy thrusts stuttering as he broke the kiss to gasp. The thought that he spilled in his trousers like a virgin sent her over the edge, saying his name over and over as muffled pleasure spread from the friction of his thigh.

"Bloody fuck." Hermione opened her eyes, terribly alone in her bed. The unsatisfying half-climax rubbed at her nerves as she brought a hand up to rub her forehead. She felt sticky and hot and _wanting_ all over. Dream fun was never quite like the real thing.

Hoping she didn't make noise in her sleep, she pushed the tangled sheet off her legs and crept to her doorway. The sight of his distinctive pale hair still on lying at the end of the couch made her breath out a sigh of relief.

At least until he gasped and sat up, one hand immediately flying to his blanket covered thigh. Then he laid his head back down sharply with an exasperated sigh.

She chewed on her lip as she silently watched him.

He shoved the blanket off him abruptly, mumbling incoherently under his breath as he searched behind his head for something. Pulling out his wand he ran it over his lap before sighing again, a small and lone sound.

Hermione ducked back into her room before his head could turn and this would reach a whole new level of deeply awkward. It could be just a coincidence. They had been rather hot and heavy last night with no end. It would make sense they were both frustrated, right? Right?

Because if she was sharing dreams now, her paranoia level was thus going to affect every part of her life and she just didn't know if she could handle that right now.

To distract herself she did shower, giving him plenty of time to escape. Or join her.

 _No. Don't you start._

It had been days though, days since she had done more than kiss and touch. Not a problem normally, she practically lived like a monk before this. But the want was becoming fierce, no matter how well she hid it.

Her mind was dragged back to the twins. They had invited her out to dinner...it was hard to mistake those intentions. Wasn't it? They weren't the type to date around. Merlin, they weren't the type to have one girlfriend that she knew of. It was always, 'I have a fit date' or 'Going over inventory while he went out with such and such' sort of things.

Malfoy was gone by the time she climbed out of the shower and walked out in just her robe. Just because she didn't want to get dressed with her hair wet. Since he was safely gone, she let herself feel disappointed.

Picking up the card that came with the cherry blossoms branches, that bloomed again in her presence, she read it over and over. Both had definitely signed their names. If she was definitely going to have this affliction, she could do worse than satisfy it with...no. What, was she going to use two people she had known since she was _eleven_?

 _Weren't you thinking of doing that with Malfoy?_

That was different. He wouldn't get hurt. She couldn't just toy around with two people, or one, that she liked and, honestly, admired. Hermione was on the verge of writing out a response declining the invitation when a thought occurred to her.

Would she have been so quick to turn either down had they asked her out before this? It had been over four years since her...time with Fred had helped her understand she didn't have what she needed with Ron. But both?

She thought of the last time she was around them and felt that sweet heat sliding down to warm her limbs languidly. Before she could wrest her mind back to where it needed to be, she sent off an acceptance to them. Both of them. Well, it was just dinner.

* * *

The day wasn't nearly so awkward as she had feared. Nobody was throwing dungbombs at Malfoy's door, for example, or whispering about how he made a fool of himself last night. Perhaps it really had humanized him in the eyes of…

A small purple memo fluttered down on her desk, causing her to pause. Purple memos were interoffice messages that were for everyone. Blue ones were personal interoffice ones, and orange were different department ones.

She looked around at the desks she could see and at the other Aurors picking up their purple memo. Turning it over in her fingers, she read.

 _All Aurors must attend two remedial training sessions. Completion will be signed off by Head Auror Baddock._

If there was ever a time to bang her head on the desk.. She could hear muffled groans around her as others read the note. While it wasn't abnormal to retake a training session, it was always on the third year marker for each Auror. Not to mention most Aurors took the advanced courses.

Remedial training was first year lessons, such as basic physical exercises and how to sweep a perimeter. It was petty, pure and simple. And so, so Malfoy.

Now she heard the mutters and cross glances sent toward his door. She readied to cast a Bubblehead charm when, not if, the dungbombs inevitably would be released in Baddock's office.

The whole day was a wash after that. She half-heartedly filled out paperwork and checked Harry's Map Marker a few times. He was still out of contact and reach. It became more about comfort than practical reason, since all thoughts of tracking down this damn Veela got pushed to the wayside.

She did sign up for two classes, set to begin in three and four weeks respectively. If she didn't hurry and do it, she'd get stuck with 'Wand Safety' and 'Inebriation Techniques'. The latter was not, as everyone joked, how to do it properly, but rather what to do when a wizard is pissed off his arse.

She wrote down Malfoy's name under Inebriation Techniques and watched the ink settle magically into the parchment. She smirked to herself and went back to her desk. He'd probably get out of it, the sneaky bugger, but it'd be satisfying to know he had to deal with it period.

By the time Hermione got home she just sat on her couch and tipped her head back. She _would_ have had two hours to get ready had she not dozed. Knocking was what woke her up and she stumbled to her door with wild hair and still wearing her Auror robes. She could have changed it with a snap of her fingers, even though she was still half-heartedly promising herself she'd stop doing that, and opened the door expecting the twins.

"Blaise!" she exclaimed, reaching out and bodily pulling him inside of her flat and slamming the door.

"Salazar, Granger, I'm not here for that." Blaise brushed off the front of his robes once she released him. He was obviously amused though, his only saving grace to not be immediately expelled out of her flat.

Hermione crossed her arms and gave him an unimpressed look. "First, don't flatter yourself. Second, why are you here then?"

Blaise blinked at her. "What's your problem? Have you got some poor drained wizard in your bed? And by drained, I mean magically and-"

"No," she interrupted quickly, "nobody's here. But I have a date in…" She looked frantically around, she forgot where her clock was. The clock that had been in the same place since she moved in.

"It is a quarter till six, Granger." Blaise examined her as if she was an especially strange creature on display. "And who's your date?"

"Not that it's any of your business, but the Weasley…"

The immediate look of horror on his face was almost funny. "Ugh!"

" 'ssss." She finished the plural, busying herself with straightening a stack of mail on the end table by the door.

"What, like Ginny too? I'll admit, she is wonderfully feisty…"

She stopped fiddling with the mail immediately. "No! No. Fred and George."

"Fred _and_ George?" Blaise rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I think you could do better, but…"

"Better? Excuse me, they are both intelligent, funny, they treat me with respect and-"

Blaise held up his hands, taking a step back as the air took on a decided heat mirage shimmer. "I only meant in a political way, not personal. They're successful but they don't run in high circles."

"I like that about them." Hermione crossed her arms and tapped one foot.

"You wouldn't be able to tell right now." He moved a finger to indicate...every part of her. "I love your natural look, but shouldn't you get rid of the tangles and change into non-work robes?

Hermione turned around and slammed her bedroom door after she stalked in. She grabbed the edges of the table and stared at her reflection. She kept a magical mirror in the bathroom, but preferred to only have the one as a whole.

She chose to painstakingly brush her hair with an actual brush, even though it kept snagging on tiny hidden knots and made it frizz up even more. But she was absolutely not continue to use her magic willy nilly. Could she even call it _her_ magic? Most of it was, obviously, but that bit extra…

Her movements flagged as she set down the brush and undressed. She chose a simple dark blue robe with a pale trim and tugged on shoes on her way out the room.

Honestly, she had thought Blaise would have left by now. Of course he hadn't. He was sitting at her kitchen table enjoying a freshly brewed cup of tea, the presumptuous bugger.

"I'm not taking you on my date."

"So you're bringing them home?"

"That's none of your business, Zabini."

"No, but that's exactly what is going to end up happening."

Hermione scowled. The thing was, she wasn't ashamed of sex if she was sure it was fully consensual. And she was having doubts...if it was a hundred percent consensual, then why hadn't this happened before?

Blaise smiled thinly at her, crossing one ankle over his knee. "You don't want to bring them home. But you will."

She took a seat on the other chair stiffly, looking at the wall fixedly. "Fine. You're right. But I don't want to cancel on them either. I do want to go on the date."

"Well," he resumed that faint smile that reached his eyes in the most pleased ways, "that why taking me along is a good idea."

She snorted. "No offense, but that's a terrible idea. Are we going to have a table for four? Will you be the fourth...wheel… Well, you know what I mean."

"No, of course not. I'll sit somewhere out of the way and merely send reminders that you aren't going home with them. Like a Stinging Hex."

Hermione turned in her chair and gave him a thoroughly disgusted look. "Zabini, that is the worst idea I have ever heard in my life, and I've had misadventures for seven years with two students."

* * *

"What do you think of the place, Hermione?" George asked, pushing in her seat for her.

"I think it's fantastic." Hermione quickly folded her hands in her lap. The restaurant was actually quite nice, it was clean and cozy, with touches that wouldn't be out of place in a home.

The best part was the magical creatures.

"I wish I had chosen to work in a different Department sometimes," Hermione murmured as tiny Niffler on a leash went scooting by and took an adorable tumble because it was so young.

"I thought you'd like this," Fred grinned. "They take in injured or abandoned creatures and the ones that are safe can roam around the place." He drew his fingers over the cloth napkin before plucking it and unraveling it.

Hermione found herself watching his movements with a dreamy air...at least until the coolness around her ankles turned icy. She sat up straighter,focusing again. "I'm glad others are taking an interest in assisting animals, of course, it's the attitude toward the intelligent ones that needs altering."

Instead of rolling their eyes or shifting attention away, like she was used to from others, George nodded. "I agree. For a while now we carefully screen our suppliers to make sure their gathering methods are on the up and up. We've been considering expanding into being a supplier for certain items. Hagrid is always good, but I think we should hire people who work just for Wheezes."

Hermione smiled and nodded, tracing a finger along the rim on her water cup. She had heard them talk before about turning down people who are rumoured to hunt or kill beings unnecessarily, and she had always praised them for it. Now she realized what an _attractive_ quality that was.

The iciness spread up her ankles slowly and she squeaked.

"Is everything all right?"

"Oh, yes, I just moved my ankle wrong. Err, where is the loo?"

"Oh, just right down the hall there, see?" Fred pointed to the left of them, trading an amused look with his brother as she excused herself.

Upon reaching the bathroom door, Hermione glared at the empty air around her before holding open the door. She felt the displacement of air as Blaise moved past her, then she followed him in.

She had him visible in a heartbeat and now she could glare while looking into his guileless eyes.

"Is there a problem?"

"Bloody...yes! You said you would only do that if it looks like I'm about to...to lose control."

"Your thoughts keep wandering. Tell me I'm wrong and I'll stop."

Her lips pursed tightly, but it was bloody true and she was so damn embarrassed that she considered never leaving the toilet. "Just don't turn me into an ice at the slightest provocation anymore."

She made sure he left before finishing up in the loo and washing her hands.

Neither commented on the amount of time it had taken as she took a seat again, though to be fair it wasn't long. She was simply jumpy and nervous, as if one might turn around and demand to know why she was in there alone with Zabini of all people.

She didn't know, let alone how to answer.

 _He's there to keep me from dragging you two to somewhere private_ , that would go over quite well.

"How's the job going?" George brought the topic back around to her, which was rather flattering.

"As much as I wish I might have chosen differently I know I'm helping people. Not every case is about danger, but enough are. I have the skills to do the job, I do it well, and that's the important part, don't you think?"

"Of course! I mean it's not quite as important as say a joke shop, but not everyone can own one." Fred winked and grinned, pointing out a menu item to George.

"Mm, I know you two own more than just a joke shop. Between the defense items, I've heard rumours on the St. Mungo's front about a new line of yours."

"Oh, DayDream Charms for Healers? Works every time," George started.

"And utterly blocks out the noises of screaming or crying." Fred finished.

Hermione rolled her eyes good-naturedly and found what she wanted to order. The server appeared as the menus went down, the twins were sharing two plates and Hermione ordered Shepherd's pie with a side of Caprese salad.

The discussion was going well, light-hearted and fun, filled with ideas and sharing stories. It's not that she didn't see them at the Burrow often enough, but it was different sharing a table with just them.

Nobody was interjecting or asking additional questions or talking about themselves; she could really learn about them. They were irreverent as always, but she had never found it as much of an annoyance she pretended to in school.

The downside was that by the time dessert came around her skin felt frozen up to her knees. He was being actually quite moderate in when and how.

Fred was holding out a morsel of Pots de crème in a spoon, a scant breath from her lips. She met his gaze as her lips closed around the bite and burst of rich chocolate on her tongue made her moan.

Then immediately regretted it as the ice slowly inched up her thighs..

"Ah!" Hermione stood up, napkin fluttering to the ground.

Two pairs of startled blue eyes followed her, taking stock of her rapidly flushing cheeks.

"I think...that...I, uhm, will be right back." It took everything in her to walk normally to the same hall as earlier, biting her bottom lip hard.

Once she had a bit of privacy she leaned over the sink, breathing long and loud and slow. Ohhh that was cold. So cold. It worked, but sweet...all that was...magical…

The door opened and closed quickly, fingers touching her arm. Though she couldn't see who it was, she _knew_ , and she gripped his wrist tightly. Yanking him sharply against the counter, she could feel his warm body and breathe in the subtle musk of cologne.

Chest to chest and hip to hip, she kept his wrist pinned as her magic pushed. But it slid off like water off a duck's back, and she hissed in frustration.

"Woah there." Blaise appeared again, his hand coming up to curl around her shoulder. He was looking down straight into her eyes, serious as sin without a hint of mocking. "You're going to be fine. Just breathe."

She took a moment to quell the urge to rub against him, a low keen in her throat before pushing away to stand alone. Whatever was inside fought hard against the additional freezing charm, but the charm held even though it had to be lessened in intensity for safety reasons. "Why did it get worse when you arrived?" She finally asked when she could talk, rubbing her own neck in agitation.

"Because I'm safe. You're not so rigidly uptight around me." He held up his hand and tapped the ring once before dropping his arm. "Can you finish the night without combusting?"

Hermione grumbled nonsensically as she adjusted again to the cold and left the bathroom. She did end up declining the rest of dessert, and that was plain terrible. She wasn't one for sweets on the regular, but the crème had been decadent and symbolic of everything she wanted right now that she couldn't have.

Just like they picked her up both men brought her back to her door.

"I had a great time," Hermione confessed as they stopped in front of her door. "Maybe we could do it again sometime?"

Both wore identical smiles as they leaned in to kiss each cheek. It was touching and sweet and when she let herself in she leaned against the closed door happily.

The only thing that would have made it more perfect is if she wasn't frozen up to her neck.

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

I am definitely going to get the hang of powering through small hangups and writer's block, I am determined! Thanks for reviewing everyone, it really helps too. Also, will definitely start responding and let you guys know I appreciate it because you deserve it! :D

HMJ

* * *

 **Personal Notes:**

Those who cross-read my fics (wow, you guys are gluttons for punishment ;D) might already know but I'll put it out here. Bad news good news scenario! Bad; my own furry companion is not with us anymore, it's been terrible and hard and is tripping me up.

The good news is my book is finalized and is available if you guys want to check it out.

 **Bound: Academy of Shifters**

 _Hanna Maria Jones_

Summary: Haven is devastated when she doesn't Change by the full moon like the rest of her family. The House of Egemen takes her in with the promise of giving her the future she was meant to have in return for serving for the rest of her life. She accepts her fate until she meets silver-eyed Andrew Joiner, who brings freedom and danger in equal measures.


End file.
